Passion Doesn't Look Beyond The Moment Of

Adhesion To One Idea Is Monomania; To Few, Slavery.

The Finest Compliment That Can Be Paid To A Woman Of Sense Is To Address Her As Such.

In One Important Respect A Man Is Fortunate In Being Poor. His Responsibility To God Is So Much The Less

Talk Less About The Years To Come, Live, Love Labor More Today.

What A Position Of Transcendent Horror Must That Be, Where The Perpetrator Of A Great Crime, Till Then A Stranger To Positive Guilt, Finds Himself Suddenly Cut Off, And Forever, From All Human Sympathy, Isolated From Hope, The Tenant Of A Solitary Cell, And With A Wide, Impassable Gulf Yawning Between Him And That Great Brotherhood Of Which He Has Ceased To Be A Part--no Longer Regarded As A Man, But As A Monster In The Shape Of One, From Whom Mercy Herself Turns Away, And For Whom Pity Even Has No Tears!