Youth Is A Season That Has No

The Fact Is, That Life Is Too Short To Be Occupied By Aught But The Present - Hope And Remembrance Are Equally A Waste Of Time.

We Need To Suffer, That We May Learn To Pity.

Nothing But Love Can Answer To Love; No Affection, No Kindness, No Care, Can Supply Its Place: It Is Its Own Sweet Want.

Oh, No! My Heart Can Never Be Again In Lightest Hopes The Same; The Love That Lingers There For Thee Hath More Of Ashes Than Of Flame.

It Is Said That Ridicule Is The Test Of Truth; But It Is Never Applied Except When We Wish To Deceive Ourselves - When If We Cannot Exclude The Light, We Would Fain Draw The Curtain Before It. The Sneer Springs Out Of The Wish To Deny; And Wretched Must That State Of Mind Be, That Wishes To Take Refuge In Doubt.