Madam, If You Were My Wife, I

With The End Of The Victorian Era, We Passed Into What I Feel I Must Call The Terrible 20th Century

A Little Mouse Of Thought Appears In The Room, And Even The Mightiest Potentates Are Thrown Into Panic. They Make Frantic Efforts To Bar Our Thoughts And Words; They Are Afraid Of The Workings Of The Human Mind.

Danger Gathers Upon Our Path. We Cannot Afford - We Have No Right - To Look Back. We Must Look Forward

Time And The Ocean And Some Guiding Star And High Cabal Have Made Us What We Are.

We Get To Make A Living; We Give To Make A Life.