A Cruel Story Runs On Wheels, And

Flowers Belong To Fairyland: The Flowers And The Birds And The Butterflies Are All That The World Has Kept Of Its Golden Age--the Only Perfectly Beautiful Things On Earth--joyous, Innocent, Half Divine--useless, Say They Who Are Wiser Than God.

There Is Nothing That You May Not Get People To Believe In If You Will Only Tell It Them Loud Enough And Often Enough, Till The Welkin Rings With It.

Is There A More Pitiable Spectacle Than That Of A Wife Contending With Others For That Charm In Her Husband's Sight Which No Philters And No Prayers Can Renew When Once It Has Fled Forever? Women Are So Unwise. Love Is Like A Bird's Song Beautiful And Eloquent When Heard In Forest Freedom, Harsh And Worthless In Repetition When Sung From Behind Prison Bars. You Cannot Secure Love By Vigilance, By Environment, By Captivity. What Use Is It To Keep The Person Of A Man Beside You If His Soul Be Truant From You?

It Is A Kind Of Blindness--poverty. We Can Only Grope Through Life When We Are Poor, Hitting And Maiming Ourselves Against Every Angle.

The Art Of Pleasing Is More Based On The Art Of Seeming Pleased Than People Think Of, And She Disarmed The Prejudices Of Her Enemies By The Unaffected Delight She Appeared To Take In Themselves.