Life Is A System Of Recurrent Pairs,

Every Age Has A Keyhole To Which Its Eye Is Pasted. Spicy Court-memoirs, The Lives Of Gallant Ladies, Recollections Of An Ex-nun, A Monk's Confession, An Atheist's Repentance, True-to-life Accounts Of Prostitution And Bastardy Gave Our Ancestors A Penny Peep Into The Forbidden Room.

To Be Disesteemed By People You Don't Have Much Respect For Is Not The Worst Fate.

Is It Really So Difficult To Tell A Good Action From A Bad One? I Think One Usually Knows Right Away Or A Moment Afterward, In A Horrid Flash Of Regret.

This Is The Spirit Of The Enchantment Under Which Venice Lies, Pearly And Roseate, Like The Sleeping Beauty, Changeless Throughout The Centuries, Arrested, While The Concrete Forest Of The Modern World Grows Up Around Her.

In Politics, It Seems, Retreat Is Honorable If Dictated By Military Considerations And Shameful If Even Suggested For Ethical Reasons.