A Friend Is Never Alarmed For Us

Habit Is Our Idea Of Eternity.

Memory Has Many Conveniences, And, Among Others, That Of Foreseeing Things As They Have Afterwards Happened.

Conscience, Like A Child, Is Soon Lulled To Sleep.

Social Life Is Filled With Doubts And Vain Aspirings; Solitude, When The Imagination Is Dethroned, Is Turned To Weariness And Ennui.

My Heart Is Its Own Grave!