Ink Is The Transcript Of Thought.

Ah! Let Us Love, My Love, For Time Is Heartless, Be Happy While You May!

My Mother Was Convinced, And On This Head I Have Retained Her Firm Belief, That To Kill Animals For The Purpose Of Feeding On Their Flesh Is One Of The Most Deplorable And Shameful Infirmities Of The Human State; That It Is One Of Those Curses Cast Upon Man Either By His Fall, Or By The Obduracy Of His Own Perversity.

Music Is The Literature Of The Heart; It Commences Where Speech Ends.

Religions Are Not Proved, Are Not Demonstrated, Are Not Established, Are Not Overthrown By Logic! They Are Of All The Mysteries Of Nature And The Human Mind, The Most Mysterious And Most Inexplicable; They Are Of Instinct And Not Of Reason.

All Our Tastes Are But Reminiscences.