And wrinkles, the damned democrats, won't flatter.

Fills The air around with beauty.

What deep wounds ever closed without a scar?

I am ashes where once I was fire.

Now what I love in women is, they won't Or can't do otherwise than lie, but do it. So well, the very truth seems falsehood to it.

Good work and joyous play go hand in hand. When play stops, old age begins. Play keeps you from taking life too seriously.

There was a sound of revelry by night, And Belgium's capital had gathered then Her beauty and her chivalry, and bright The lamps shone o'er fair women and brave men. A thousand hearts beat happily; and when Music arose with its voluptuous swell, Soft eyes looked love to eyes which spake again, And all went merry as a marriage bell. But hush! hark! a deep sound strikes like a rising knell!