Books Succeed; And Lives Fail.

It Is Difficult To Get Rid Of People When You Once Have Given Them Too Much Pleasure.

"there Is No God," The Foolish Saith, But None, "there Is No Sorrow." And Nature Oft The Cry Of Faith In Bitter Need Will Borrow: Eyes Which The Preacher Could Not School, By Wayside Graves Are Raised; And Lips Say, "god Be Pitiful," Who Ne'er Said, "god Be Praised."

Yet Half The Beast Is The Great God Pan, To Laugh, As He Sits By The River, Making A Poet Out Of A Man. The True Gods Sigh For The Cost And The Pain-- For The Reed That Grows Never More Again As A Reed With The Reeds Of The River.

Many A Crown Covers Bald Foreheads.

The Devil's Most Devilish When Respectable.