Guard Well Within Yourself That Treasure, Kindness.

Genius, Whether Locked Up In A Cell Or Roaming At Large, Is Always Solitary.

The Beauty That Addresses Itself To The Eyes Is Only The Spell Of The Moment; The Eye Of The Body Is Not Always That Of The Soul.

There Is Only One Happiness In This Life, To Love And Be Loved.

There Is But On Virtue--the Eternal Sacrifice Of Self.

We Do Not Precisely Enjoy Liberty At The Figaro. M. De Latouche, Our Worthy Director (ah! You Should Know The Fellow), Is Always Hanging Over Us, Cutting, Pruning, Right Or Wrong, Imposing Upon Us His Whims, His Aberrations, His Fancies, And We Have To Write As He Bids.