Our Treasures Trifles Seem, And All Our

And Yet, And Yet, In These Our Ghostly Lives, Half Night, Half Day, Half Sleeping, Half Awake, How If Our Waking Life, Like That Of Sleep, Be All A Dream In That Eternal Life To Which We Wake Not Till We Sleep In Death

If A Pretty Woman Only Knew How Anger Improved Her Beauty! Her Complexion Needs No Other Paint Than Indignation.

The Heart Is An Astrologer That Always Divines The Truth.

All Just Laws Condemn Cruelty.

The Dower Of Great Beauty Has Always Been Misfortune, Since Happiness And Beauty Do Not Agree Together.