The Stars Are So Far, Far Away!

A Preface Is A Species Of Literary Luxury, Where An Author, Like A Lover, Is Privileged To Be Egotistical.

The Fact Is, That Life Is Too Short To Be Occupied By Aught But The Present - Hope And Remembrance Are Equally A Waste Of Time.

Alas! We Give Our Own Coloring To The Actions Of Others.

Habit Is Our Idea Of Eternity.

Whenever I Hear A Man Talking Of The Advantages Of Our Ill-used Sex, I Look Upon It As The Prelude To Some New Act Of Authority.