Charity In Various Guises Is An Intruder

The Song That We Hear With Our Ears Is Only The Song That Is Sung In Our Hearts.

It Is The North Wind That Lashes Men Into Vikings; It Is The Soft, Luscious South Wind Which Lulls Them To Lotus Dreams.

Hypocrites Weep, And You Cannot Tell Their Tears From Those Of Saints; But No Bad Man Ever Laughed Sweetly Yet.

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.

There Is A Chord In Every Heart That Has A Sigh In It If Touched Aright.