Every Notion That Any Man, Dead, Living,

Literature Is A Vast Bazaar Where Customers Come To Purchase Everything Except Mirrors.

I Have Followed After The Truth, Across This Windy Planet Upon Which Every Person Is Nourished By One Or Another Lie.

Some Few There Must Be In Every Age And Every Land Of Whom Life Claims Nothing Very Insistently Save That They Write Perfectly Of Beautiful Happenings.

No Person Of Quality Ever Remembers Social Restrictions Save When Considering How Most Piquantly To Break Them.

Good And Evil Keep Very Exact Accounts... And The Face Of Every Man Is Their Ledger.