She Might Have Melted A Heart Of

In The Opera We Call Love, The Libretto Is Almost Nothing.

For Prying Into Any Human Affairs, Non Are Equal To Those Whom It Does Not Concern.

One Cannot Be A Good Historian Of The Outward, Visible World Without Giving Some Thought To The Hidden, Private Life Of Ordinary People; And On The Other Hand One Cannot Be A Good Historian Of This Inner Life Without Taking Into Account Outward Events Where These Are Relevant.

Nature, Like A Kind And Smiling Mother, Lends Herself To Our Dreams And Cherishes Our Fancies.

It Is Often Our Best Friends Who Throw Us Down.