Youth Is A Season That Has No

Social Life Is Filled With Doubts And Vain Aspirings; Solitude, When The Imagination Is Dethroned, Is Turned To Weariness And Ennui.

Hopes And Regrets Are The Sweetest Links Of Existence.

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!

Strange Mystery Of Our Nature, That Those In Whom Genius Develops Itself In Imagination, Thus Taking Its Most Ethereal Form, Should Yet Be The Most Dependent On The Opinions Of Others!

One Of The Greatest Of All Mental Pleasures Is To Have Our Thoughts Often Divined: Ever Entered Into With Sympathy.