The Woman You Buy Takes A Great

The Habits Of Life Form The Soul, And The Soul Forms The Physical Presence.

Are Not Poets Men Who Fulfill Their Hopes Prematurely?

Intuition, Like The Rays Of The Sun, Acts Only In An Inflexibly Straight Line; It Can Guess Right Only On Condition Of Never Diverting Its Gaze; The Freaks Of Chance Disturb It.

A Mother's Life, You See, Is One Long Succession Of Dramas, Now Soft And Tender, Now Terrible. Not An Hour But Has Its Joys And Fears.

How Can We Explain The Perpetuity Of Envy--a Vice Which Yields No Return?