There Is Delight In Singing, Though None

When A Woman Hath Ceased To Be Quite The Same To Us, It Matters Little How Different She Becomes.

Great Men Too Often Have Greater Faults Than Little Men Can Find Room For.

Such Is Our Impatience, Such Our Hatred Of Procrastination, To Everything But The Amendment Of Our Practices And The Adornment Of Our Nature, One Would Imagine We Were Dragging Time Along By Force, And Not He Us.

My Thoughts Are My Company; I Can Bring Them Together, Select Them, Detain Them, Dismiss Them.

Falsehood Is For A Season.