In Women Everything Is Heart, Even The

You Prove Your Worth With Your Actions, Not With Your Mouth.

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.

Individuality Is To Be Preserved And Respected Everywhere, As The Root Of Everything Good.

Ah! The Seasons Of Love Roll Not Backward But Onward, Downward Forever.

Humanity Is Never So Beautiful As When Praying For Forgiveness, Or Else Forgiving Another.