A Day Wasted On Others Is Not

Mystery And Disappointment Are Not Absolutely Indispensable To The Growth Of Love, But They Are, Very Often, Its Powerful Auxiliaries.

All Other Swindlers Upon Earth Are Nothing To The Self-swindlers, And With Such Pretences Did I Cheat Myself. Surely A Curious Thing. That I Should Innocently Take A Bad Half-crown Of Somebody Else's Manufacture, Is Reasonable Enough; But That I Should Knowingly Reckon The Spurious Coin Of My Own Make, As Good Money!

A Moment, And Its Glory Was No More. The Sun Went Down Beneath The Long Dark Lines Of Hill And Cloud Which Piled Up In The West An Airy City, Wall Heaped On Wall, And Battlement On Battlement; The Light Was All Withdrawn; The Shining Church Turned Cold And Dark; The Stream Forgot To Smile; The Birds Were Silent; And The Gloom Of Winter Dwelt On Everything.

She Dotes On Poetry, Sir. She Adores It; I May Say That Her Whole Soul And Mind Are Wound Up, And Entwined With It. She Has Produced Some Delightful Pieces, Herself, Sir. You May Have Met With Her 'ode To An Expiring Frog,' Sir.

If A Pig Could Give His Mind To Anything, He Would Not Be A Pig.