Every Word Was Once A Poem.

The Secret Of Success Lies Never In The Amount Of Money, But In The Relation Of Income To Outgo.

Men Are What Their Mothers Made Them.

Consistency Is The Bugbear That Frightens Little Minds.

There Are Moods In Which We Court Suffering, In The Hope That Here, At Least, We Shall Find Reality, Sharp Peaks And Edges Of Truth. But It Turns Out To Be Scene-painting And Counterfeit. The Only Thing Grief Has Taught Me Is To Know How Shallow It Is.

Cunning Is Strength Withheld.