Oft A Little Morning Rain Foretells A

The City Seems So Much More In Earnest: Its Business, Its Rush, Its Roar Are Such Serious Things, Sights And Sounds. The City Is Getting Its Living - The West-end But Enjoying Its Pleasure.

It Seems To Me, Monsieur, That There Is Nothing More Galling In Great Physical Misfortunes Than To Be Compelled To Make All Those About Us Share In Our Sufferings. The Ills Of The Soul One Can Hide, But Those Which Attack The Body And Destroy The Faculties Cannot Be Concealed.

After A Youth And Manhood Passed Half In Unutterable Misery And Half In Dreary Solitude, I Have For The First Time Found What I Can Truly Love--i Have Found You.

Unlawful Pleasure, Trenching On Another's Rights, Is Delusive And Envenomed Pleasure—its Hollowness Disappoints At The Time, Its Poison Cruelly Tortures Afterwards, Its Effects Deprave Forever.

Life Is Still Life, Whatever Its Pangs; Our Eyes And Ears And Their Use Remain With Us, Though The Prospect Of What Pleases Be Wholly Withdrawn, And The Sound Of What Consoles Must Be Silenced.