The Last Excessive Feelings Of Delight Are

Tears Hinder Sorrow From Becoming Despair.

Hair Is The Most Delicate And Lasting Of Our Materials, And Survives Us, Like Love. It Is So Light, So Gentle; So Escaping From The Idea Of Death, That, With A Lock Of Hair Belonging To A Child Or Friend, We May Almost Look Up To Heaven And Compare Notes With The Angelic Nature,--may Almost Say, "i Have A Piece Of Thee Here Not Unworthy Of Thy Being Now.

When Moral Courage Feels That It Is In The Right, There Is No Personal Daring Of Which It Is Incapable.

Whatever Evil Befalls Us, We Ought To Ask Ourselves... How We Can Turn It Into Good. So Shall We Take Occasion, From One Bitter Root, To Raise Perhaps Many Flowers.

Improvement Is Nature.