No Eye To Watch, And No Tongue

My Only Books Were Woman's Looks,- And Folly 's All They 've Taught Me.

The Red-letter Days, Now Become, To All Intents And Purposes, Dead-letter Days.

How I Like To Be Liked, And What I Do To Be Liked!

How Sickness Enlarges The Dimensions Of A Man's Self To Himself! Supreme Selfishness Is Inculcated Upon Him As His Only Duty.

We Do Not Go To The Theatre Like Our Ancestors, To Escape From The Pressure Of Reality, So Much As To Confirm Our Experience Of It.