Are We Not Like The Actor Of

There Is Nothing So Easy As To Be Wise For Others; A Species Of Prodigality, By-the-by - For Such Wisdom Is Wholly Wasted.

A Blossom Full Of Promise Is Life's Joy, That Never Comes To Fruit. Hope, For A Time, Suns The Young Floweret In Its Gladsome Light, And It Looks Flourishing--a Little While-- 't Is Pass'd, We Know Not Whither, But 't Is Gone.

The Blessings Of Matrimony, Like Those Of Poverty, Belong Rather To Philosophy Than Reality.

All Sweeping Assertions Are Erroneous.

Who Has Not Experienced, At Some Time Or Other, That Words Had All The Relief Of Tears?