Social Sorrow Loses Half Its Pain.

I Am A Hardened And Shameless Tea Drinker, Who Has, For Twenty Years, Diluted His Meals With Only The Infusion Of This Fascinating Plant; Whose Kettle Has Scarcely Time To Cool; Who With Tea Amuses The Evening, With Tea Solaces The Midnight, And, With Tea, Welcomes The Morning.

Guilt Has Always Its Horrors And Solicitudes; And, To Make It Yet More Shameful And Detestable, It Is Doomed Often To Stand In Awe Of Those To Whom Nothing Could Give Influence Or Weight But Their Power Of Betraying.

He That Embarks On The Voyage Of Life Will Always Wish To Advance Rather By The Impulse Of The Wind Than The Strokes Of The Oar; And Many Fold In Their Passage; While They Lie Waiting For The Gale.

Truth Has No Gradations; Nothing Which Admits Of Increase Can Be So Much What It Is, As Truth Is Truth. There May Be A Strange Thing, And A Thing More Strange. But If A Proposition Be True, There Can Be None More True.

Glory, The Casual Gift Of Thoughtless Crowds! Glory, The Bribe Of Avaricious Virtue!