The Glutton Is Much More Than An

There Are Houses In Certain Provincial Towns Whose Aspect Inspires Melancholy, Akin To That Called Forth By Sombre Cloisters, Dreary Moorlands, Or The Desolation Of Ruins. Within These Houses There Is, Perhaps, The Silence Of The Cloister, The Barrenness Of Moors, The Skeleton Of Ruins; Life And Movement Are So Stagnant There That A Stranger Might Think Them Uninhabited, Were It Not That He Encounters Suddenly The Pale, Cold Glance Of A Motionless Person, Whose Half-monastic Face Peers Beyond The Window-casing At The Sound Of An Unaccustomed Step.

People Who Climb From One Rung Of Society To Another Can Never Do Anything Simply.

For The Journalist, Anything Probable Is Gospel Truth.

Modesty Is The Conscience Of The Body.

Women Are Happy To Possess A Man Whom All Women Covet.