It Is One Of My Sources Of

It Is Done... The Precious Portrait Placed In The Hands Of The Gentlemen For Safe Keeping.

Two Messengers Covered With Dust Come To Bid Me Fly, But I Wait For Him.

And Now, Dear Sister, I Must Leave This House Or The Retreating Army Will Make Me A Prisoner In It By Filling Up The Road I Am Directed To Take.

It Is One Of My Sources Of Happiness Never To Desire A Knowledge Of Other People's Business.

I Would Rather Fight With My Hands Than My Tongue.