Good Befalls Us While We Sleep, Sometimes.

The Wounds Of Self-love Turn Incurable When The Oxide Of Self-love Gets Into Them.

People Exaggerate Both Happiness And Unhappiness; We Are Never So Fortunate Nor So Unfortunate As People Say We Are.

Several Sorts Of Memory Exist In Us; Body And Mind Each Possesses One Peculiar To Itself. Nostalgia, For Instance, Is A Malady Of The Physical Memory.

La Femme Marie E Est Un Esclave Qu'il Faut Savoir Mettre Sur Un Tro" N E. A Married Woman Is A Slave Whom One Must Put On A Throne.

Journalism Is A Giant Catapult Set In Motion By Pigmy Hatreds.