Time Flies Over Us, But Leaves Its

I Have Come To See The Nonsense Of Attempting To Describe Fine Scenery. There Is No Such Possibility. If Scenery Could Be Adequately Reproduced In Words, There Would Have Been No Need Of God's Making It In Reality.

Accuracy Is Twin Brother To Honesty, And Inaccuracy To Dishonesty.

Let The Attempt Be Made, At Whatever Risk.

Every Crime Destroys More Edens Than Our Own

Caresses, Expressions Of One Sort Or Another, Are Necessary To The Life Of The Affections As Leaves Are To The Life Of A Tree. If They Are Wholly Restrained, Love Will Die At The Roots.