Vanity Is The Quicksand Of Reason.

O Heart! Love Is Thy Bane And Thy Antidote.

Be Prudent, And If You Hear, * * * Some Insult Or Some Threat, * * * Have The Appearance Of Not Hearing It.

Faith Is An Excitement And An Enthusiasm: It Is A Condition Of Intellectual Magnificence To Which We Must Cling As To A Treasure, And Not Squander On Our Way Through Life In The Small Coin Of Empty Words, Or In Exact And Priggish Argument.

A Woman's Heart Has No Wrinkles.

We Do Not Precisely Enjoy Liberty At The Figaro. M. De Latouche, Our Worthy Director (ah! You Should Know The Fellow), Is Always Hanging Over Us, Cutting, Pruning, Right Or Wrong, Imposing Upon Us His Whims, His Aberrations, His Fancies, And We Have To Write As He Bids.