No Fountain So Small But That Heaven

Sunlight Is Painting.

London Is Like The Grave In One Respect -- Any Man Can Make Himself At Home There; And Whenever A Man Finds Himself Homeless Elsewhere, He Had Better Either Die Or Go To London.

It Loves More Readily Than It Hates.

The Sorrow That Lay Cold In Her Mother's Heart... Converted It Into A Tomb.

But This Had Been A Sin Of Passion, Not Of Principle, Nor Even Purpose.