Wrong Is But Falsehood Put In Practice.

Children Are What The Mothers Are.

If There Were No Falsehood In The World, There Would Be No Doubt, If There Were No Doubt, There Would Be No Inquiry; If No Inquiry, No Wisdom, No Knowledge, No Genius; And Fancy Herself Would Lie Muffled Up In Her Robe, Inactive, Pale, And Bloated.

The Highest Price We Can Pay For Anything; Is To Ask It.

Truth Is A Point, The Subtlest And Finest; Harder Than Adamant; Never To Be Broken, Worn Away, Or Blunted. Its Only Bad Quality Is, That It Is Sure To Hurt Those Who Touch It; And Likely To Draw Blood, Perhaps The Life Blood, Of Those Who Press Earnestly Upon It.

It Is Delightful To Kiss The Eyelashes Of The Beloved--is It Not? But Never So Delightful As When Fresh Tears Are On Them.