The Main Object Of Religion

Everybody Is So Talented Nowadays That The Only People I Care To Honor As Deserving Real Distinction Are Those Who Remain In Obscurity.

A Woman Would Rather Visit Her Own Grave Than The Place Where She Has Been Young And Beautiful After She Is Aged And Ugly.

Sometimes A Woman's Love Of Being Loved Gets The Better Of Her Conscience, And Though She Is Agonized At The Thought Of Treating A Man Cruelly, She Encourages Him To Love Her While She Doesn't Love Him At All. Then, When She Sees Him Suffering, Her Remorse Sets In, And She Does What She Can To Repair The Wrong.

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

I Am The Family Face; Flesh Perishes, I Live On, Projecting Trait And Trace Through Time To Times Anon, And Leaping From Place To Place Over Oblivion.