Most Women Are Not As Young As

To Give An Accurate And Exhaustive Account Of That Period Would Need A Far Less Brilliant Pen Than Mine.

For A Young Man, Sleep Is A Sure Solvent Of Distress. There Whirls Not For Him In The Night Any So Hideous Phantasmagoria As Will Not Become, In The Clarity Of The Next Morning, A Spruce Procession For Him To Lead. Brief The Vague Horror Of His Awakening; Memory Sweeps Back To Him, And He Sees Nothing Dreadful After All. "why Not?" Is The Sun's Bright Message To Him, And "why Not Indeed?" His Answer.

Reverence Is A Good Thing, And Part Of Its Value Is That The More We Revere A Man, The More Sharply Are We Struck By Anything In Him (and There Is Always Much) That Is Incongruous With His Greatness.

Of All The Objects Of Hatred, A Woman Once Loved Is The Most Hateful.

Have You Noticed ... There Is Never Any Third Act In A Nightmare? They Bring You To A Climax Of Terror And Then Leave You There. They Are The Work Of Poor Dramatists.