Sad Is His Lot, Who, Once At

We Cannot Have Two Hearts, One For The Animals And One For Men. In Cruelty Towards The Former And Cruelty To The Latter There Is No Difference But In The Victim.

Virginity Is The Poetry, Not The Reality, Of Life.

Modesty And Dew Love The Shade.

Joy Is A Flame Which Association Alone Can Keep Alive, And Which Goes Out Unless Communicated.

There Is A Woman At The Begining Of All Great Things.