Among All Forms Of Mistake, Prophecy Is

A Woman's Lot Is Made For Her By The Love She Accepts.

We Learn Words By Rote, But Not Their Meaning; That Must Be Paid For With Our Life-blood, And Printed In The Subtle Fibres Of Our Nerves.

We Are Apt To Think It The Finest Era Of The World When America Was Beginning To Be Discovered, When A Bold Sailor, Even If He Were Wrecked, Might Alight On A New Kingdom.

Plainness Has Its Peculiar Temptations And Vices Quite As Much As Beauty.

Truth Has Rough Flavours If We Bite It Through.