A Cruel Story Runs On Wheels, And

We Do Not Want To Think. We Do Not Want To Hear. We Do Not Care About Anything. Only Give Us A Good Dinner And Plenty Of Money, And Let Us Outshine Our Neighbors. There Is The Nineteenth Century Gospel.

Histories In Blazonry And Poems In Stone.

There Is No Applause That So Flatters A Man As That Which He Wrings From Unwilling Throats.

There Is A Self-evident Axiom, That She Who Is Born A Beauty Is Half Married.

What Is Failure Except Feebleness? And What Is It To Miss One's Mark Except To Aim Widely And Weakly?