To Be Rude Is As Good As

Thou Know'st How Fearless Is My Trust In Thee.

Truly, A Little Love-making Is A Very Pleasant Thing.

Toil Is The Portion Of Day, As Sleep Is That Of Night; But If There Be One Hour Of The Twenty-four Which Has The Life Of Day Without Its Labor, And The Rest Of Night Without Its Slumber, It Is The Lovely And Languid Hour Of Twilight.

I Would Give Worlds, Could I Believe One-half That Is Profess'd Me; Affection! Could I Think It Thee, When Flattery Has Caress'd Me.

And This Is Woman's Fate: All Her Affections Are Called Into Life By Winning Flatteries, And Then Thrown Back Upon Themselves To Perish; And Her Heart, Her Trusting Heart, Filled With Weak Tenderness, Is Left To Bleed Or Break!