When There Is An Old Maid In

Nothing Is Unimportant To A Man Plunged In Despair. He Is As Credulous As A Criminal Sentenced To Death Who Listens To A Lunatic Raving To Him About How He Can Escape Through The Keyhole.

Hope Is A Memory That Desires, The Memory Is A Memory That Has Enjoyed.

The Parisan, Sauntering The Streets Idly, Is As Often A Man In Despair As A Lounger.

Danger Arouses Interest. Where Death Is Involved, The Vilest Criminal Invariably Stirs A Little Compassion.

He Hesitated Till The Last Moment, But Finally Dropped Them In The Box, Saying, "i Shall Win!"--the Cry Of A Gambler, The Cry Of The Great General, The Compulsive Cry That Has Ruined More Men Than It Has Ever Saved.