The Happy Never Say, And Never Hear

Not Dancing Well, I Never Danced At All--and How Grievously Has My Heart Ached When Others Where In The Full Enjoyment Of That Conversation Which I Had No Right Even To Partake.

Patience, Piety, And Salutary Knowledge Spring Up And Ripen Under The Harrow Of Affliction; Before There Is Wine Or Oil, The Grape Must Be Trodden And The Oil Pressed.

O What A Thing Is Age! Death Without Death's Quiet.

Such Is Our Impatience, Such Our Hatred Of Procrastination, To Everything But The Amendment Of Our Practices And The Adornment Of Our Nature, One Would Imagine We Were Dragging Time Along By Force, And Not He Us.

Circumstances Form The Character; But, Like Petrifying Matters, They Harden While They Form.