There Are Names Written In Her Immortal

The Most Violent Friendships Soonest Wear Themselves Out.

The Imagination Is Of So Delicate A Texture That Even Words Wound It.

Vice, Like Disease, Floats In The Atmosphere.

If We Use No Ceremony Towards Others, We Shall Be Treated Without Any. People Are Soon Tired Of Paying Trifling Attentions To Those Who Receive Them With Coldness, And Return Them With Neglect.

We Go On A Journey To Be Free Of All Impediments; To Leave Ourselves Behind Much More Than To Get Rid Of Others