Husbands Are An Inferior Class Of Men,

For Years After Lydgate Remembered The Impression Produced In Him By This Involuntary Appeal-this Cry From Soul To Soul, Without Other Consciousness Than Their Moving With Kindred Natures In The Same Embroiled Medium, The Same Troublous Fitfully-illuminated Life.

So Shall I Join The Choir Invisible Whose Music Is The Gladness Of The World.

To Manage Men One Ought To Have A Sharp Mind In A Velvet Sheath.

What Do We Live For, If Not To Make Life Less Difficult For Each Other?

Let My Body Dwell In Poverty, And My Hands Be As The Hands Of The Toiler; But Let My Soul Be As A Temple Of Remembrance Where The Treasures Of Knowledge Enter And The Inner Sanctuary Is Hope.