The Devil Loves Nothing Better Than The

And Blessed Are The Horny Hands Of Toil.

Attention Is The Stuff That Memory Is Made Of, And Memory Is Accumulated Genius.

If The Devil Take A Less Hateful Shape To Us Than To Our Fathers, He Is As Busy With Us As With Them.

All Birds During The Pairing Season Become More Or Less Sentimental, And Murmur Soft Nothings In A Tone Very Unlike The Grinding-organ Repetition And Loudness Of Their Habitual Song. The Crow Is Very Comical As A Lover; And To Hear Him Trying To Soften His Croak To The Proper Saint-preux Standard Has Something The Effect Of A Mississippi Boatman Quoting Tennyson.

One Learns More Metaphysics From A Single Temptation Than From All The Philosophers.