You, Jane, I Must Have You For

I Longed For A Power Of Vision Which Might Overpass That Limit; Which Might Reach The Busy World, Towns, Regions Full Of Life I Had Heard Of But Never Seen: That I Desired More Of Practical Experience Than I Possessed; More Of Intercourse With My Kind, Of Acquaintance With Variety Of Character, Than Was Here Within My Reach.

Tact, If It Be Genuine, Never Sleeps.

Unlawful Pleasure, Trenching On Another's Rights, Is Delusive And Envenomed Pleasure—its Hollowness Disappoints At The Time, Its Poison Cruelly Tortures Afterwards, Its Effects Deprave Forever.

We Should Acknowledge God Merciful, But Not Always For Us Comprehensible.

Misery Generates Hate.