How Lucky Is The Man Who, Like

The Only True Immortality Lies In One's Children.

In Him Converge All Previous Streams Of Tendency, Not As Into A Pool, Stagnant, Passive, Motionless, But As A Noble River That Received Its Tributary Waters And Bearss Them Onward In Larger And Statelier Volume.

Never Criticize The Composition Of A Royal Highness. You Never Know Who May Have Written It.

One Should Never Forget That By Actually Perfecting One Piece One Gains And Learns More Than By Starting Or Half-finishing A Dozen.

For The Shallow Delights Of Matrimony And Opera I Have No Courage.