The Words Of Genius Have A Wider

I Love Words; They Are The Quoits, The Bows, The Staves That Furnish The Gymnasium Of The Mind.

The Reward Of One Duty Is The Power To Fulfill Another.

Her Own Misery Filled Her Heart—there Was No Room In It For Other People's Sorrow.

The Happiest Women, Like The Happiest Nations, Have No History.

Death Is The King Of This World: 'tis His Park Where He Breeds Life To Feed Him. Cries Of Pain Are Music For His Banquet.