I Love The Silent Hour Of Night,

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

I Am Truly Miserable - More So Than I Like To Acknowledge To Myself. Pride Refuses To Aid Me. It Has Brought Me Into The Scrape, And Will Not Help Me Out Of It.

I Still Preserve Those Relics Of Past Sufferings And Experience, Like Pillars Of Witness Set Up In Travelling Through The Valve Of Life, To Mark Particular Occurrences. The Footsteps Are Obliterated Now; The Face Of The Country May Be Changed; But The Pillar Is Still There, To Remind Me How All Things Were When It Was Reared.

It Is Foolish To Wish For Beauty. Sensible People Never Either Desire It For Themselves Or Care About It In Others. If The Mind Be But Well Cultivated, And The Heart Well Disposed, No One Ever Cares For The Exterior.

It Is Painful To Doubt The Sincerity Of Those We Love.