Keep Both Heart And Hand In Your

There Is Always A But In This Imperfect World.

In Love Affairs, There Is No Mediator Like A Merry, Simple-hearted Child - Ever Ready To Cement Divided Hearts, To Span The Unfriendly Gulf Of Custom, To Melt The Ice Of Cold Reserve, And Overthrow The Separating Walls Of Dread Formality And Pride.

He Had Not Breathed A Word Of Love, Or Dropped One Hint Of Tenderness Or Affection, And Yet I Had Been Supremely Happy. To Be Near Him, To Hear Him Talk As He Did Talk, And To Feel That He Thought Me Worthy To Be So Spoken To - Capable Of Understanding And Duly Appreciating Such Discourse - Was Enough.

He Never Could Have Loved Me, Or He Would Not Have Resigned Me So Willingly

The Bud, Though Plucked, Would Not Be Withered, Only Transplanted To A Fitter Soil To Ripen And Blow Beneath A Brighter Sun; And Though I Might Not Cherish And Watch My Child's Unfolding Intellect, He Would Be Snatched Away From All The Suffering And Sins Of Earth; And My Understanding Tells Me This Would Be No Great Evil; But My Heart Shrinks From The Contemplation Of Such A Possibility, And Whispers I Could Not Bear To See Him Die.