There Is Nothing Original; All Is Reflected

In Paris, When Certain People See You Ready To Set Your Foot In The Stirrup, Some Pull Your Coat-tails, Others Loosen The Buckle Of The Strap That You May Fall And Crack Your Skull; One Wrenches Off Your Horse's Shoes, Another Steals Your Whip, And The Least Treacherous Of Them All Is The Man Whom You See Coming To Fire His Pistol At You Point Blank.

There Are As Many Mediocrities Exalted Through Pity As Masters Decried Through Envy.

You're A Fine Fastidious Young Man, As Proud As A Lion, As Gentle As A Girl. You'd Make A Good Catch For The Devil.

The Man As He Converses Is The Lover; Silent, He Is The Husband.

Some Day You Will Find Out That There Is Far More Happiness In Another's Happiness Than In Your Own.