It Is Said That Ridicule Is The

I Never Cast A Flower Away, A Gift Of One Who Car'd For Me; A Flower--a Faded Flower, But It Was Done Reluctantly.

A Preface Is A Species Of Literary Luxury, Where An Author, Like A Lover, Is Privileged To Be Egotistical.

The Truth Is, We Never Make For Others The Allowance We Make For Ourselves; And We Should Deny Even Our Own Words, Could We Hear Them Spoken By Another.

We Are Rarely Wrong When We Act From Impulse.

In Our Road Through Life We May Happen To Meet With A Man Casting A Stone Reverentially To Enlarge The Cairn Of Another Which Stone He Has Carried In His Bosom To Sling Against That Very Other's Head.