The Only Thing A Man Knows Is

If You Wish To Make A Man Look Noble, Your Best Course Is To Kill Him. What Superiority He May Have Inherited From His Race, What Superiority Nature May Have Personally Gifted Him With, Comes Out In Death.

Seated In My Library At Night, And Looking On The Silent Faces Of My Books, I Am Occasionally Visited By A Strange Sense Of The Supernatural.

Nature Never Quite Goes Along With Us. She Is Somber At Weddings, Sunny At Funerals, And She Frowns On Ninety-nine Out Of A Hundred Picnics.

In My Garden, Care Stops At The Gate And Gazes At Me Wistfully Through The Bars.

Some Books Are Drenchèd Sandson Which A Great Soul's Wealth Lies All In Heaps,like A Wrecked Argosy.