Women Only Love Those That They Don’t

In Simple Hearts The Feeling For The Beauty And Grandeur Of Nature Is A Hundred-fold Stronger And More Vivid Than In Us, Ecstatic Composers Of Narratives In Words And On Paper.

Many A Calm River Begins As A Turbulent Waterfall, Yet None Hurtles And Foams All The Way To The Sea.

Anyone Who Has Chanced Like Me To Roam Through Desolate Mountains And Studied At Length Their Fantastic Shapes And Drunk The Invigorating Air Of Their Valleys Can Understand Why I Wish To Describe And Depict These Magic Scenes For Others.

I Was Lying, But I Wanted To Rouse Him. I Have An Inborn Urge To Contradict; My Whole Life Has Been A Mere Chain Of Sad And Futile Opposition To The Dictates Of Either Heart Or Reason. The Presence Of An Enthusiast Makes Me As Cold As A Midwinter's Day, And, I Believe, Frequent Association With A Listless Phlegmatic Would Make Me An Impassioned Dreamer.

Women Only Love Those That They Don’t Know.