I Am Always Easy Of Belief When

What The Deuce Is To Do Now?

The Trouble Is Not That I Am Single And Likely To Stay Single, But That I Am Lonely And Likely To Stay Lonely.

Remorse Is The Poison Of Life.

You Had No Right To Be Born; For You Make No Use Of Life. Instead Of Living For, In, And With Yourself, As A Reasonable Being Ought, You Seek Only To Fasten Your Feebleness On Some Other Person's Strength.

In Sunshine, In Prosperity, The Flowers Are Very Well; But How Many Wet Days Are There In Life—november Seasons Of Disaster, When A Man's Hearth And Home Would Be Cold Indeed, Without The Clear, Cheering Gleam Of Intellect.