Recollection Is The Only Paradise From Which

I Have Made As Much Out Of Myself As Could Be Made Of The Stuff, And No Man Should Require More.

The Last, Best Fruit Which Comes To Late Perfection, Even In The Kindliest Soul, Is Tenderness Toward The Hard, Forbearance Toward The Unforbearing, Warmth Of Heart Toward The Cold, Philanthropy Toward The Misanthropic.

Art Is Indeed Not The Bread But The Wine Of Life.

Only Deeds Give Strength To Life, Only Moderation Gives It Charm.

In Women Everything Is Heart, Even The Head.