The Confidant Of My Vices Is My

One Would Give Generous Alms If One Had The Eyes To See The Beauty Of A Cupped Receiving Hand.

The Traveler Was Active; He Went Strenuously In Search Of People, Of Adventure, Of Experience. The Tourist Is Passive.

It Is Better To Be Deceived By One's Friends Than To Deceive Them.

He Who Would Reproach An Author For Obscurity Should Look Into His Own Mind To See Whether It Is Quite Clear There. In The Dusk The Plainest Writing Is Illegible.

Thou Art In The End What Thou Art. Put On Wigs With Millions Of Curls, Set Thy Foot Upon Ell-high Rocks. Thou Abidest Ever--what Thou Art.