Ah! It Is Well For The Unfortunate

The Fallen Angel Becomes A Malignant Devil. Yet Even That Enemy Of God And Man Had Friends And Associates In His Desolation; I Am Alone.

Allow Me Now To Return To The Cottagers, Whose Story Excited In Me Such Various Feelings Of Indignation, Delight, And Wonder, But Which All Terminated In Additional Love And Reverence For My Protectors (for So I Loved, In An Innocent, Half Painful Self-deceit, To Call Them).

All Judges Had Rather That Ten Innocent Should Suffer Than That One Guilty Should Escape.

When I Step Into The Batter's Box, The Fans, The Noise, The Cheers, They All Disappear. For That Moment, The World Is Just A Battle Between Me And The Pitcher. And More Than Anything, I Want To Win.

The Instructor Can Scarcely Give Sensibility Where It Is Essentially Wanting, Nor Talent To The Unpercipient Block. But He Can Cultivate And Direct The Affections Of The Pupil, Who Puts Forth, As A Parasite, Tendrils By Which To Cling, Not Knowing To What - To A Supporter Or A Destroyer.