Virtue Has A Veil, Vice A Mask.

One Believes Others Will Do What He Will Do To Himself.

And If It Happened To Be A Christmas-night When The Great Bell Seemed To Rattle In Its Throat As It Called The Faithful To The Midnight Mass, There Was Such An Indescribable Air Of Life Spread Over The Sombre Facade That The Great Door-way Looked As If It Were Swallowing The Entire Crowd, And The Rose-window Staring At Them.

A Strange Thing Has Happened, Do You Know? I Am In Darkness. There Is A Person Who, Departing, Took Away The Sun.

Loving Is Almost A Substitute For Thinking. Love Is A Burning Forgetfulness Of All Other Things. How Shall We Ask Passion To Be Logical?

Desiring Always To Be In Mourning, He Clothed Himself With Night.