Your Modest Savant Smiles As He Says

Your Women Of Fashion Ceases To Be A Woman. She Is Neither Mother, Nor Wife, Nor Lover. She Is, Medically Speaking, Sex On The Brain.

A Woman Questions The Man Who Loves Exactly As A Judge Questions A Criminal. This Being So, A Flash Of The Eye, A Mere Word, An Inflection Of The Voice Or A Moment's Hesitation Suffice To Expose The Fact, Betrayal Or Crime He Is Attempting To Conceal.

Now Literary Success Can Only Be Won In Solitude By Persevering Labor.

Heaven Should Be Kind To Stupid People, For No One Else Can Be Consistently.

If Certain Women Walk Straight Into Adultery, There Are Many Others Who Cling To Numerous Hopes, And Commit Sin Only After Wandering Through A Maze Of Sorrows.