We Spoil Ourselves With Scruples Long As

In Visions Of The Night, Like Dropping Rain, Descend The Many Memories Of Pain.

The Adulterer Dies. An Old Custom, Justice.

Obstinacy Standing Alone Is The Weakest Of All Things In One Whose Mind Is Not Possessed By Wisdom.

His Resolve Is Not To Seem The Bravest, But To Be.

It Is Always The Season For The Old To Learn.