Chance, My Dear, Is The Sovereign Deity

As Soon As Coffee Is In Your Stomach, There Is A General Commotion. Ideas Begin To Move…similes Arise, The Paper Is Covered. Coffee Is Your Ally And Writing Ceases To Be A Struggle.

There Are No Little Events With The Heart. It Magnifies Everything; It Places In The Same Scales The Fall Of An Empire Of Fourteen Years And The Dropping Of A Woman's Glove, And Almost Always The Glove Weighs More Than The Empire.

Virginity, Like All Monstrosities, Possesses Special Riches And Its Own Absorbing Grandeur. Among The Chaste, Life Forces Are Economized And Thus Gain In Resistance And Durability.

Thought Is The Only Treasure That God Sets Outside All Power And Keeps To Serve As A Secret Link Among The Unhappy.

A Woman In The Depths Of Despair Proves So Persuasive That She Wrenches The Forgiveness Lurking Deep In The Heart Of Her Lover. This Is All The More True When That Woman Is Young, Pretty, And So Decollete As To Emerge From The Neck Of Her Gown In The Costume Of Eve.