After A Man Passes 60 , His

Acting Provides The Fulfillment Of Never Being Fulfilled. You're Never As Good As You'd Like To Be. So There's Always Something To Hope For.

There Is Never Jealousy Where There Is Not Strong Regard.

There Is A Certain Artificial Polish, A Commonplace Vivacity Acquired By Perpetually Mingling In The Beau Monde; Which, In The Commerce Of World, Supplies The Place Of Natural Suavity And Good-humour, But Is Purchased At The Expense Of All Original And Sterling Traits Of Character.

He Is The True Enchanter, Whose Spell Operates, Not Upon The Senses, But Upon The Imagination And The Heart.

The Tie Which Links Mother And Child Is Of Such Pure And Immaculate Strength As To Be Never Violated.