Miracle Is The Pet Child

Faith Is Hidden Household Capital.

A Man's Foibles Are What Makes Him Lovable.

Hope Is The Second Soul Of The Unhappy.

A Life Without Love, Without The Presence Of The Beloved, Is Nothing But A Mere Magic-lantern Show. We Draw Out Slide After Slide, Swiftly Tiring Of Each, And Pushing It Back To Make Haste For The Next.

Rash Combat Oft Immortalizes Man; If He Should Fall, He Is Renowned In Song; But After-ages Reckon Not The Ceaseless Tears Which The Forsaken Woman Sheds. Poets Tell Us Not Of The Many Nights Consumed In Weeping, Or Of The Dreary Days Wherein Her Anguished Soul Vainly Yearns To Call Her Loved One Back.