Make My Happiness--i Will Make Yours.

I Mean That I Value Vision, And Dread Being Struck Stone Blind.

That A Greater Fool Than Jane Eyre Had Never Breathed The Breath Of Life; That A More Fantastic Idiot Had Never Surfeited Herself On Sweet Lies, And Swallowed Poison As If It Were Nectar.

I'm Just Going To Write Because I Cannot Help It.

I Ask You To Pass Through Life At My Side—to Be My Second Self, And Best Earthly Companion.

Reserved People Often Really Need The Frank Discussion Of Their Sentiments And Griefs More Than The Expansive. The Sternest-seeming Stoic Is Human After All, And To Burst With Boldness And Good-will Into The Silent Sea Of Their Souls Is Often To Confer On Them The First Of Obligations.