War May Be The Game

No Man, Or Woman, Was Ever Cured Of Love By Discovering The Falseness Of His Or Her Lover. The Living Together For Three Long, Rainy Days In The Country Has Done More To Dispel Love Than All The Perfidies In Love That Have Ever Been Committed.

People Resemble Still More The Time In Which They Live, Than They Resemble Their Fathers.

They Tell Us That "pity Is Akin To Love;" If So, Pity Must Be A Poor Relation.

Do Not Shun This Maxim Because It Is Common-place. On The Contrary, Take The Closest Heed Of What Observant Men, Who Would Probably Like To Show Originality, Are Yet Constrained To Repeat. Therein Lies The Marrow Of The Wisdom Of The World.

Those Who Are Successfully To Lead Their Fellow-men, Should Have Once Possessed The Nobler Feelings. We Have All Known Individuals Whose Magnanimity Was Not Likely To Be Troublesome On Any Occasion; But Then They Betrayed Their Own Interests By Unwisely Omitting The Consideration, That Such Feelings Might Exist In The Breasts Of Those Whom They Had To Guide And Govern: For They Themselves Cannot Even Remember The Time When In Their Eyes Justice Appeared Preferable To Expediency, The Happiness Of Others To Self-interest, Or The Welfare Of A State To The Advancement Of A Party.