Virtue Is Like Precious Odours, Most Fragrant

When They Are Gay, The Waves Echo Their Gaiety; But When They Are Sad, Then Every Breaker, As It Rolls, Seems To Bring Additional Sadness, And To Speak To Us Of Hopelessness And Of The Pettiness Of All Our Joys.

Look At This Limp Cravet. And The Sad State Of Those Cuffs. I Can Hardly Bring Myself To Look Upon Them.

I Have So Often Been Asked The Question: "but How Did You Come To Think Of The Scarlet Pimpernel?" And My Answer Has Always Been: "it Was God's Will That I Should." And To You Moderns, Who Perhaps Do Not Believe As I Do, I Will Say, "in The Chain Of My Life, There Were So Many Links, All Of Which Tended Towards Bringing Me To The Fulfillment Of My Destiny."

Now, When Their Glances Met, They Understood One Another. The Power That Lay Within Both Their Souls Had Met, And, As It Were, Clasped Hands. They Accepted One Another's Sacrifice. Hers, Mayhap, Was The More Complete Of The Two, Because For Her His Absence Would Mean Weary Waiting, The Dull Heartache So Terrible To Bear.

In The Chain Of My Life, There Were So Many Links, All Of Which Tended Towards Bringing Me To The Fulfillment Of My Destiny.