London Is A Huge Shop, With A

The Truths Of Life Are Not Discovered By Us. At Moments Unforeseen, Some Gracious Influence Descends Upon The Soul, Touching It To An Emotion Which, We Know Not How, The Mind Transmutes Into Thought.

Life, I Fancy, Would Very Often Be Insupportable, But For The Luxury Of Self Compassion.

The Mind Which Renounces, Once And For Ever, A Futile Hope, Has Its Compensation In Ever-growing Calm.

London Is A Huge Shop, With A Hotel On The Upper Storeys.

That Is One Of The Bitter Curses Of Poverty; It Leaves No Right To Be Generous.