Simplicity Is A Great Element Of Good

Your Theory Of Partial Immortality Is Abhorrent To Me. I Would Rather Disbelieve In The Immortality Of My Own Soul Than Suppose The Boon Given To Me Was Withheld From Any Of My Fellow Creatures.

Christmas Is A Season Of Such Infinite Labour, As Well As Expense In The Shopping And Present-making Line, That Almost Every Woman I Know Is Good For Nothing In Purse And Person For A Month Afterwards, Done Up Physically, And Broken Down Financially.

Yesterday Morning I Amused Myself With An Exercise Of A Talent I Once Possessed, But Have So Neglected That My Performance Might Almost Be Called An Experiment. I Cut Out A Dress For One Of The Women.

My Chief Time For Reading Is At Night While Brushing My Hair Before I Go To Bed, And As You May Suppose, But Little Profit And Pleasure Can Be Derived From Such Mere Sips At The Well Of Knowledge. 'tis A Great Privation To Me, For My Desire For Information Increases Instead Of Diminishing, And I Look Forward With Great Anxiety To The Time When I Can Improve My Poor Neglected Mind And Learn Some Of The Few Exhaustless Store Of Things Which I Wish To Know.

The Vast Concourse Of People Who Had Assembled To Witness The Triumphant Arrival Of The Successful Travellers Was Of The Lowest Orders Of Mechanics And Artisans, Among Whom Great Distress And A Dangerous Spirit Of Discontent With The Government At That Time Prevailed.