Because The Road Is Rough And Long,

Preserve Me From Such Cordiality! It Is Like Handling Briar-roses And May-blossoms - Bright Enough To The Eye, And Outwardly Soft To The Touch, But You Know There Are Thorns Beneath, And Every Now And Then You Feel Them Too; And Perhaps Resent The Injury By Crushing Them In Till You Have Destroyed Their Power, Though Somewhat To The Detriment Of Your Own Fingers.

Farewell To Thee! But Not Farewell To All My Fondest Thoughts Of Thee; Within My Heart They Still Shall Dwell And They Shall Cheer And Comfort Me.

There's Nothing Like Active Employment, I Suppose, To Console The Afflicted.

How Odd It Is That We So Often Weep For Each Other's Distresses, When We Shed Not A Tear For Our Own!

The Ties That Bind Us To Life Are Tougher Than You Imagine, Or Than Any One Can Who Has Not Felt How Roughly They May Be Pulled Without Breaking.