The Man Whose Action Habitually Bears The

Nobody Loves A Woman Because She Is Handsome Or Ugly, Stupid Or Intelligent. We Love Because We Love.

[raphael's] Great Superiority Is Due To The Instinctive Sense Which, In Him, Seems To Desire To Shatter Form. Form Is, In His Figures, What It Is In Ourselves, An Interpreter For The Communication Of Ideas And Sensations, An Exhaustless Source Of Poetic Inspiration. Every Figure Is A World In Itself, A Portrait Of Which The Original Appeared In A Sublime Vision, In A Flood Of Light, Pointed To By An Inward Voice, Laid Bare By A Divine Finger Which Showed What The Sources Of Expression Had Been In The Whole Past Life Of The Subject.

A Man's Own Vanity Is A Swindler That Never Lacks For A Dupe.

Love Is The Most Melodious Of All Harmonies.

One Day, About The Middle Of July 1838, One Of The Carriages, Lately Introduced To Paris Cabstands, And Known As Milords, Was Driving Down The Rue De L'universite, Conveying A Stout Man Of Middle Height In The Uniform Of A Captain Of The National Guard.