I Loved My Friend For His Gentleness,

Table Talk, To Be Perfect, Should Be Sincere Without Bigotry, Differing Without Discord, Sometimes Grave, Always Agreeable, Touching On Deep Points, Dwelling Most On Seasonable Ones, And Letting Everybody Speak And Be Heard.

An Author Is Like A Baker; It Is For Him To Make The Sweets, And Others To Buy And Enjoy Them.

It Is Our Daily Duty To Consider That In All Circumstances Of Life, Pleasurable, Painful, Or Otherwise, The Conduct Of Others, Especially Of Those In The Same House; And That, As Life Is Made Up, For The Most Part, Not Of Great Occasions, But Of Small Everyday Moments, It Is The Giving To Those Moments Their Greatest Amount Of Peace, Pleasantness, And Security, That Contributes Most To The Sum Of Human Good. Be Peaceable. Be Cheerful. Be True.

It Is A Delicious Moment, Certainly, That Of Being Well Nestled In Bed, And Feeling That You Shall Drop Gently To Sleep. The Good Is To Come, Not Past; The Limbs Have Just Been Tired Enough To Render The Remaining In One Posture Delightful; The Labour Of The Day Is Gone

Did You Ever Observe That Immoderate Laughter Always Ends In A Sigh?