When Virtue Has Slept It Will Arise

Where One Despises, One Cannot Wage War.

Life Is A Well Of Joy; But For Those Out Of Whom An Upset Stomach Speaks, Which Is The Father Of Melancholy, All Wells Are Poisoned.

I Am Affected, Not Because You Have Deceived Me, But Because I Can No Longer Believe In You.

Man Is Not Equally Moral At All Hours, This Is Well Known. If His Morality Is Judged To Be The Capability For Great Self-sacrificing Resolutions And Self-denial (which, When Continuous And Grown Habitual, Are Called Holiness)

Art Raises Its Head Where Creeds Relax.