All Wines Are By Their Very Nature

Nature Is Forever Arriving And Forever Departing, Forever Approaching, Forever Vanishing; But In Her Vanishings There Seems To Be Ever The Waving Of A Hand, In All Her Partings A Promise Of Meetings Farther Along The Road.

More And More The World Is Growing To Love A Lover, And One Has Only To Read The Newspapers To See How Sympathetic Are The Times To Any Generous And Adventurous Display Of The Passions.

It Is Curious How, From Time Immemorial, Man Seems To Have Associated The Idea Of Evil With Beauty, Shrunk From It With A Sort Of Ghostly Fear, While, At The Same Time Drawn To It By Force Of Its Hypnotic Attraction.

Perhaps We Too Seldom Reflect How Much The Life Of Nature Is One With The Life Of Man, How Unimportant Or Indeed Merely Seeming, The Difference Between Them.

There Is Something Mean In Human Nature That Prefers To Think Evil, That Gives A Willing Ear And A Ready Welcome To Calumny, A Sort Of Jealousy Of Goodness And Greatness And Things Of Good Report.