A Spirit Of Criticism, If Indulged In,

Everyone Says That Forgiveness Is A Lovely Idea Until He Has Something To Forgive.

More And More Do I Feel, As I Advance In Life, How Little We Really Know Of Each Other. Friendship Seems To Me Like The Touch Of Musical-glasses--it Is Only Contact; But The Glasses Themselves, And Their Contents, Remain Quite Distinct And Unmingled.

Sweet Is The Air With The Budding Haws, And The Valley Stretching For Miles Below Is White With Blossoming Cherry-trees, As If Just Covered With Lighted Snow.

O Gift Of God! O Perfect Day: Whereon Shall No Man Work, But Play; Whereon It Is Enough For Me, Not To Be Doing, But To Be!

Many Readers Judge Of The Power Of A Book By The Shock It Gives Their Feelings.