Nothing can cure the soul but the senses, just as nothing can cure the senses but the soul.

Good resolutions are simply checks that men draw on a bank where they have no account.

The moment one sits down to think, one becomes all nose, or all forehead, or something horrid

Actual life was chaos, but there was something terribly logical in the imagination. It was the imagination that set remorse to dog the feet of sin. It was the imagination that made each crime bear its misshapen brood. In the common world of fact the wicked were not punished, nor the good rewarded. Success was given to the strong, failure thrust upon the weak. That was all.

My philosophy? I'm always right and you are wrong.

Even men of the noblest possible moral character are extremely susceptible to the influence of the physical charms of others. Modern, no less then Ancient History, supplies us with many most painful examples of what I refer to. If it were not so, indeed, History would be quite unreadable.

The weather still continues charming.