The Truth Is How You Say It,

The Very Condition Of Woman Is So Subject To Hazard, So Complex, And So Grievous, That To Place Her At One Moment Is But To Displace Her At The Next.

Dreams Have Only The Pigmentation Of Fact.

Love Is The First Lie; Wisdom The Last.

One Cup Poured Into Another Makes Different Waters; Tears Shed By One Eye Would Blind If Wept Into Another's Eye. The Breast We Strike In Joy Is Not The Breast We Strike In Pain; Any Man's Smile Would Be Consternation On Another's Mouth.

There's Something Evil In Me That Loves Evil And Degradation--purity's Black Backside! That Loves Honesty With A Horrid Love; Or Why Have I Always Gone Seeking It At The Liar's Door?