A Man Never Discloses His Own Character

Paradise Is Always Where Love Dwells.

The Burden Of Suffering Seems A Tombstone Hung About Our Necks, While In Reality It Is Only The Weight Which Is Necessary To Keep Down The Diver While He Is Hunting For Pearls.

It Is Not Great, But Little Good-haps That Make Up Happiness.

There Are Souls Which Fall From Heaven Like Flowers, But Ere They Bloom Are Crushed Under The Foul Tread Of Some Brutal Hoof.

A Woman Who Could Always Love Would Never Grow Old; And The Love Of Mother And Wife Would Often Give Or Preserve Many Charms If It Were Not Too Often Combined With Parental And Conjugal Anger. There Remains In The Face Of Women Who Are Naturally Serene And Peaceful, And Of Those Rendered So By Religion, An After-spring, And Later An After-summer, The Reflex Of Their Most Beautiful Bloom.