A Woman Being Never At A Loss...

I Have No Consistency, Except In Politics; And That Probably Arises From My Indifference To The Subject Altogether.

Never To Talk To Ones Self Is A Form Of Hypocrisy

A Little Still She Strove, And Much Repented, And Whispering “i Will Ne'er Consent”—consented.

There Is Pleasure In The Pathless Woods, There Is Rapture In The Lonely Shore, There Is Society Where None Intrudes, By The Deep Sea, And Music In Its Roar; I Love Not Man The Less, But Nature More.

When Age Chills The Blood, When Our Pleasures Are Past - For Years Fleet Away With The Wings Of The Dove - The Dearest Remembrance Will Still Be The Last, Our Sweetest Memorial The First Kiss Of Love.