The Ideal Of Calm Exists In A

Add Two Letters Two Paris And It's Paradise.

There Is Nothing Like Literature: I Lose A Cow, I Write About Her Death, And My Writing Pays Me Enough To Buy Another Cow.

A Beautiful Line Of Verse Has Twelve Feet, And Two Wings.

If I Were To Begin My Life Again, I Should Want It As It Was. I Would Only Open My Eyes A Little More.

When The Defects Of Others Are Perceived With So Much Clarity, It Is Because One Possesses Them Oneself.