I Would Give Worlds, Could I Believe

It Is Curious How Inseparable Eating And Kindness Are With Some People.

A Blossom Full Of Promise Is Life's Joy, That Never Comes To Fruit. Hope, For A Time, Suns The Young Floweret In Its Gladsome Light, And It Looks Flourishing--a Little While-- 't Is Pass'd, We Know Not Whither, But 't Is Gone.

Farewell's A Bitter Word To Say.

There Is No Wretchedness Like Self-reproach.

Few Save The Poor Feel For The Poor.