How Odd It Is That We So

But Smiles And Tears Are So Alike With Me, They Are Neither Of Them Confined To Any Particular Feelings: I Often Cry When I Am Happy, And Smile When I Am Sad.

God Will Judge Us By Our Own Thoughts And Deeds, Not By What Others Say About Us.

A Little Girl Loves Her Bird--why? Because It Lives And Feels; Because It Is Helpless And Harmless? A Toad, Likewise, Lives And Feels, And Is Equally Helpless And Harmless; But Though She Would Not Hurt A Toad, She Cannot Love It Like The Bird, With Its Graceful Form, Soft Feathers, And Bright, Speaking Eyes.

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.

If The Generous Ideas Of Youth Are Too Often Over- Clouded By The Sordid Views Of After-life, That Scarcely Proves Them To Be False