I Do Love Violets; They Tell The

I Hate The Word 'ought' - It Always Implies Something Dull, Cold, And Commonplace. The 'ought Nots' Of Life Are Its Pleasantest Things.

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

A Sealed Book, At Whose Contents We Tremble.

Praise Is Sometimes A Good Thing For The Diffident And The Despondent. It Teaches Them Properly To Rely On The Kindness Of Others.

Perhaps, From An Innate Desire Of Justification, Sorrow Always Exaggerates Itself. Memory Is Quite One Of Job's Friends; And The Past Is Ever Ready To Throw Its Added Darkness On The Present.