There Seems A Life In Hair, Though

Christmas Is The Glorious Time Of Great Too-much.

Write Me As One Who Loves His Fellow Men.

Mirth Itself Is Too Often But Melancholy In Disguise.

May Exalting And Humanizing Thoughts Forever Accompany Me, Making Me Confident Without Pride, And Modest Without Servility.

Affection, Like Melancholy, Magnifies Trifles; But The Magnifying Of The One Is Like Looking Through A Telescope At Heavenly Objects; That Of The Other, Like Enlarging Monsters With A Microscope.