For No One Does Life Drag More

Romanticism Is Beauty Without Bounds-the Beautiful Infinite.

A Man Never Discloses His Own Character So Clearly As When He Describes Anothers.

I Would Rather Dwell In The Dim Fog Of Superstition Than In Air Rarefied To Nothing By The Air-pump Of Unbelief-in Which The Panting Breast Expires, Vainly And Convulsively Gasping For Breath.

A Timid Person Is Frightened Before A Danger, A Coward During The Time, And A Courageous Person Afterward.

The Look Of A King Is Itself A Deed.