Of Writing Many Books There Is No

Whoever Lives True Life, Will Love True Love.

Girls Blush, Sometimes, Because They Are Alive, Half Wishing They Were Dead To Save The Shame. The Sudden Blush Devours Them, Neck And Brow; They Have Drawn Too Near The Fire Of Life, Like Gnats, And Flare Up Bodily, Wings And All. What Then? Who's Sorry For A Gnat Or Girl?

But Since He Had The Genius To Be Loved, Why Let Him Have The Justice To Be Honoured In His Grave.

At Painful Times, When Composition Is Impossible And Reading Not Enough, Grammars And Dictionaries Are Excellent For Distraction.

Life, Struck Sharp On Death, Makes Awful Lightning.