It's Over, And Can't Be

I Will Die Here Where I Have Walked. And I Will Walk Here, Though I Am In My Grave. I Will Walk Here Until The Pride Of This House Is Humbled.

"there Are Strings," Said Mr. Tappertit, Flourishing His Bread-and-cheese Knife In The Air, "in The Human Heart That Had Better Not Be Wibrated..."

Loves And Cupids Took To Flight Afraid, And Martyrdom Had No Such Torment In Its Painted History Of Suffering.

I Am No More Annoyed When I Think Of The Expression, Than I Should Be Annoyed By A Man's Opinion Of A Picture Of Mine, Who Had No Eye For Pictures; Or Of A Piece Of Music Of Mine, Who Had No Ear For Music.

So, Throughout Life, Our Worst Weaknesses And Meannesses Are Usually Committed For The Sake Of The People Whom We Most Despise.