When The Spirit Is Not Master Of

Let Not The Author Eat Up The Man, So That He Shall Be All Balcony And No House.

A Friend May Well Be Reckoned The Masterpiece Of Nature.

Conversation Is A Game Of Circles.

Manners Are The Happy Ways Of Doing Things; Each One A Stroke Of Genius Or Of Love, Now Repeated And Hardened Into Usage, They Form At Last A Rich Varnish, With Which The Routine Of Life Is Washed, And Its Details Adorned. If They Are Superficial, So Are The Dew-drops Which Give Such A Depth To The Morning Meadows.

The Real And Lasting Victories Are Those Of Peace, And Not Of War.