There Is A Self-evident Axiom, That She

Woman's Fatal Weakness Is To Desire Sympathy And Comprehension. --"wanda

Coleridge Cried; "o God, How Glorious It Is To Live!" Renan Asks, "o God, When Will It Be Worth While To Live?" In Nature We Echo The Poet; In The World We Echo The Thinker.

Even Of Death Christianity Has Made A Terror Which Was Unknown To The Gay Calmness Of The Pagan And The Stoical Repose Of The Indian.

When One Has Not Father, Or Mother, Or Brother, And All One's Friends Have Barely Bread Enough For Themselves, Life Cannot Be Very Easy, Nor Its Crusts Very Many At Any Time.

When Passion And Habit Long Lie In Company It Is Only Slowly And With Incredulity That Habit Awakens To Finds Its Companion Fled, Itself Alone.