Doubts, Like Facts, Are Stubborn Things.

I Would Give Worlds, Could I Believe One-half That Is Profess'd Me; Affection! Could I Think It Thee, When Flattery Has Caress'd Me.

How Beautiful, Buoyant, And Glad Is Morning! The First Sunshine On The Leaves: The First Wind, Laden With The First Breath Of The Flowers—that Deep Sigh With Which They Seem To Waken From Sleep; The First Dew, Untouched Even By The Light Foot Of The Early Hare; The First Chirping Of The Rousing Birds, As If Eager To Begin Song And Flight; All Is Redolent Of The Strength Given By Rest, And The Joy Of Conscious Life.

I Cannot Love Evergreens - They Are The Misanthropes Of Nature. To Them The Spring Brings No Promise, The Autumn No Decline; They Are Cut Off From The Sweetest Of All Ties With Their Kind - Sympathy. ... I Will Have No Evergreens In My Garden; When The Inevitable Winter Comes, Every Beloved Plant And Favorite Tree Shall Drop Together - No Solitary Fir Left To Triumph Over The Companionship Of Decay.

Are We Not Like The Actor Of Old Times, Who Wore His Mask So Long His Face Took Its Likeness?

It Is Curious How Inseparable Eating And Kindness Are With Some People.