The Truth Is, We Like To Talk

Our First Love-letter ... There Is So Much To Be Said, And Which No Words Seems Exactly To Say - The Dread Of Saying Too Much Is So Nicely Balanced By The Fear Of Saying Too Little. Hope Borders On Presumption, And Fear On Reproach.

Sight-seeing Gratifies Us In Different Ways. First, There Is The Pleasure Of Novelty; Secondly, Either That Of Admiration Or Fault-finding - The Latter A Very Animated Enjoyment.

Youth, Balancing Itself Upon Hope, Is Forever In Extremes: Its Expectations Are Continually Aroused Only To Be Baffled, And Disappointment, Like A Summer Shower, Is Violent In Proportion To Its Brevity.

The Past Is Perpetual Youth To The Heart.

Words Alike Make The Destiny Of Empires And Of Individuals. Ambition, Love, Hate, Interest, Vanity, Have Words For Their Engines, And Need None More Powerful. Language Is A Fifth Element - The One By Which All The Others Are Swayed.