Paradise Is Always Where Love Dwells.

Humankind's Chief Fault Is That They Have So Many Small Ones.

It Is Not The End Of Joy That Makes Old Age So Sad, But The End Of Hope.

It Has Been Jestingly Said That The Works Of John Paul Richter Are Almost Unintelligible To Any But The Germans, And Even To Some Of Them. A Worthy German, Just Before Richter's Death, Edited A Complete Edition Of His Works, In Which One Particular Passage Fairly Puzzled Him. Determined To Have It Explained At The Source, He Went To John Paul Himself. The Author's Reply Was Very Characteristic: "my Good Friend, When I Wrote That Passage, God And I Knew What It Meant; It Is Possible That God Knows It Still; But As For Me, I Have Totally Forgotten."

The Gymnasium Of Running, Walking On Stilts, Climbing, Etc. Stells And Makes Hardy Single Powers And Muscles, But Dancing, Like A Corporeal Poesy, Embellishes, Exercises, And Equalizes All The Muscles At Once.

Has It Never Occurred To Us, When Surrounded By Sorrows, That They May Be Sent To Us Only For Our Instruction, As We Darken The Eyes Of Birds When We Wish Them To Sing?