I Will Look On The Stars And

Confidence Is Its Own Security.

Do Anything But Love; Or If Thou Lovest And Art A Woman, Hide Thy Love From Him Whom Thou Dost Worship; Never Let Him Know How Dear He Is; Flit Like A Bird Before Him; Lead Him From Tree To Tree, From Flower To Flower; But Be Not Won, Or Thou Wilt, Like That Bird, When Caught And Caged, Be Left To Pine Neglected And Perish In Forgetfulness.

Affection Exaggerates Its Own Offenses.

There Is No Denying That There Are 'royal Roads' Through Existence For The Upper Classes; For Them, At Least, The Highways Are Macadamized, Swept, And Watered.

If There Be Any One Habit Which More Than Another Is The Dry Rot Of All That Is High And Generous In Youth, It Is The Habit Of Ridicule.