My Tastes Are Aristocratic, My Actions Democratic.

What Would Be Ugly In A Garden Constitutes Beauty In A Mountain.

The Power Of A Glance Has Been So Much Abused In Love Stories, That It Has Come To Be Disbelieved In. Few People Dare Now To Say That Two Beings Have Fallen In Love Because They Have Looked At Each Other. Yet It Is In This Way That Love Begins, And In This Way Only.

While Contemplating The Bride, And Eyeing The Cake Of Soap, He Muttered Between His Teeth: 'tuesday. It Was Not Tuesday. Was It Tuesday? Perhaps It Was Tuesday. Yes, It Was Tuesday.' No One Has Ever Discovered To What This Monologue Referred. Yes, Perchance, This Monologue Had Some Connection With The Last Occasion On Which He Had Dined, Three Days Before, For It Was Now Friday.

Close By The Rights Of Man, At The Least Set Beside Them, Are The Rights Of The Spirit.

Do You Know What Friendship Is?' He Asked. 'yes,' Replied The Gypsy; 'it Is To Be Brother And Sister; Two Souls Which Touch Without Mingling, Two Fingers On One Hand.' 'and Love?' Pursued Gringoire. 'oh! Love!' Said She, And Her Voice Trembled, And Her Eye Beamed. 'that Is To Be Two And To Be But One. A Man And A Woman Mingled Into One Angel. It Is Heaven.