Music Is Not A Science Any More

Charity Is A Flower Not Naturally Of Earthly Growth, And It Needs Manuring With A Promise Of Profit.

There Is No More Terrible Woe Upon Earth Than The Woe Of The Stricken Brain, Which Remembers The Days Of Its Strength, The Living Light Of Its Reason, The Sunrise Of Its Proud Intelligence, And Knows That These Have Passed Away Like A Tale That Is Told.

Hypocrites Weep, And You Cannot Tell Their Tears From Those Of Saints; But No Bad Man Ever Laughed Sweetly Yet.

An Easy-going Husband Is The One Indispensable Comfort Of Life.

Honor Is An Old-world Thing; But It Smells Sweet To Those In Whose Hand It Is Strong.