It Was The Touch Of

Beauty Lay Not In The Thing, But In What The Thing Symbolized.

In The Ill-judged Execution Of The Well-judged Plan Of Things The Call Seldom Produces The Comer, The Man To Love Rarely Coincides With The Hour For Loving

- The Ethereal, Fine-nerved, Sensitive Girl, Quite Unfitted By Temperament And Instinct To Fulfil The Conditions Of The Matrimonial Relation With Phillotson, Possibly With Scarce Any Man.

Why Is It That A Woman Can See From A Distance What A Man Cannot See Close?

There Are Disappointments Which Wring Us, And There Are Those Which Inflict A Wound Whose Mark We Bear To Our Graves. Such Are So Keen That No Future Gratification Of The Same Desire Can Ever Obliterate Them: They Become Registered As A Permanent Loss Of Happiness.