What A Thing Of Fantasy A Woman

There Are No Principles; There Are Only Events. There Is No Good And Bad, There Are Only Circumstances.

Un Mari, Comme Un Gouvernement, Ne Doit Jamais Avouer De Faute. A Husband, Like A Government, Never Needs To Admit A Fault.

Misfortune Makes Of Certain Souls A Vast Desert Through Which Rings The Voice Of God.

The More Illegal A Profit, The More Tenaciously A Man Clings To It.

Everything Becomes Agitated. Ideas Quick-march Into Motion Like Battalions Of A Grand Army To Its Legendary Fighting Ground, And The Battle Rages. Memories Charge In, Bright Flags On High; The Cavalry Of Metaphor Deploys With A Magnificent Gallop; The Artillery Of Logic Rushes Up With Clattering Wagons And Cartridges; On Imagination's Orders, Sharpshooters Sight And Fire; Forms And Shapes And Characters Rear Up; The Paper Is Spread With Ink - For The Nightly Labor Begins And Ends With Torrents Of This Black Water, As A Battle Opens And Concludes With Black Powder.