But Youth Has A Future. The Closer

We Ought To Thank God For That. Yes, The Man Who Tills The Land Is More Worthy Of Respect Than Any.

There Are People Who Exist In This World Not Like Entities But Like The Speckles Or Spots On Something.

I Am Very Fond Of The Modest Manner Of Life Of Those Solitary Owners Of Remote Villages, Who In Little Russia Are Commonly Called "old-fashioned," Who Are Like Tumbledown Picturesque Little Houses, Delightful In Their Simplicity And Complete Unlikeness To The New Smooth Buildings Whose Walls Have Not Yet Been Discolored By The Rain, Whose Roofs Are Not Yet Covered With Green Lichen, And Whose Porch Does Not Display Its Bricks Through The Peeling Stucco.

There Are Occasions When A Woman, No Matter How Weak And Impotent In Character She May Be In Comparison With A Man, Will Yet Suddenly Become Not Only Harder Than Any Man, But Even Harder Than Anything And Everything In The World.

As Countless As Grains Of Sand By The Sea Are Human Passions, And They All Differ; All Of Them, Vile Or Lofty, Begin By Being Under A Man's Control And Then Become His Terrible Masters. Blessed Is He Who Has Chosen The Most Lofty Of Passions: His Immeasurable Bliss Grows And Multiplies Tenfold With Every Hour And Minute, And He Penetrates Deeper And Deeper Into The Infinite Paradise Of His Soul.