Rich Women Need Not Fear Old Age;

Bankers Are Lynxes. To Expect Any Gratitude From Them Is Equivalent To Attempting To Move The Wolves Of The Ukraine To Pity In The Middle Of Winter.

Nothing Is Unimportant To A Man Plunged In Despair. He Is As Credulous As A Criminal Sentenced To Death Who Listens To A Lunatic Raving To Him About How He Can Escape Through The Keyhole.

Virtually All Men Of Action Incline To Fatality Just As Most Thinkers Incline To Providence.

Though The Human Heart May Have To Pause For Rest When Climbing The Heights Of Affection It Rarely Stops On The Slippery Slope Of Hatred.

Everything Becomes Agitated. Ideas Quick-march Into Motion Like Battalions Of A Grand Army To Its Legendary Fighting Ground, And The Battle Rages. Memories Charge In, Bright Flags On High; The Cavalry Of Metaphor Deploys With A Magnificent Gallop; The Artillery Of Logic Rushes Up With Clattering Wagons And Cartridges; On Imagination's Orders, Sharpshooters Sight And Fire; Forms And Shapes And Characters Rear Up; The Paper Is Spread With Ink - For The Nightly Labor Begins And Ends With Torrents Of This Black Water, As A Battle Opens And Concludes With Black Powder.