Hope Is The Second Soul Of The

Must It Ever Be Thus-that The Source Of Our Happiness Must Also Be The Fountain Of Our Misery? The Full And Ardent Sentiment Which Animated My Heart With The Love Of Nature, Overwhelming Me With A Torrent Of Delight, And Which Brought All Paradise Before Me, Has Now Become An Insupportable Torment, A Demon Which Perpetually Pursues And Harrasses Me.

All Theory, Dear Friend, Is Gray, But The Golden Tree Of Life Springs Ever Green.

It Is Related Of An Englishman That He Hanged Himself To Avoid The Daily Task Of Dressing And Undressing.

Few Rash Of Any Modern Nation Have A Proper Sense Of An Aesthetical Whole; They Praise And Blame By Parts; They Are Charmed By Passages. And Who Has Greater Reason To Rejoice In This Than Actors, Since The Stage Is Ever But A Patched And Piecemeal Matter?

We Find From Experience That Yellow Excites A Warm And Agreeable Impression.... The Eye Is Gladdened, The Heart Expanded And Cheered, A Glow Seems At Once To Breathe Toward Us.