All Sweeping Assertions Are Erroneous.

Toil Is The Portion Of Day, As Sleep Is That Of Night; But If There Be One Hour Of The Twenty-four Which Has The Life Of Day Without Its Labor, And The Rest Of Night Without Its Slumber, It Is The Lovely And Languid Hour Of Twilight.

Hopes And Regrets Are The Sweetest Links Of Existence.

Curiosity And Courtesy Are Very Often At Variance.

Few Save The Poor Feel For The Poor.

In Our Road Through Life We May Happen To Meet With A Man Casting A Stone Reverentially To Enlarge The Cairn Of Another Which Stone He Has Carried In His Bosom To Sling Against That Very Other's Head.