A Lover Without Indiscretion Is No Lover

Of Love It May Be Said, The Less Earthly The Less Demonstrative. In Its Absolutely Indestructible Form It Reaches A Profundity In Which All Exhibition Of Itself Is Painful.

You Have Never Loved Me As I Love You--never--never! Yours Is Not A Passionate Heart--your Heart Does Not Burn In A Flame! You Are, Upon The Whole, A Sort Of Fay, Or Sprite-- Not A Woman!

This Good Fellowship - Camaraderie - Usually Occurring Through The Similarity Of Pursuits Is Unfortunately Seldom Super-added To Love Between The Sexes, Because Men And Women Associate, Not In Their Labors But In Their Pleasures Merely. Where, However, Happy Circumstances Permit Its Development, The Compounded Feeling Proves Itself To Be The Only Love Which Is Strong As Death - That Love Which Many Waters Cannot Quench, Nor The Floods Drown, Besides Which The Passion Usually Called By The Name Is As Evanescent As Steam.

That Cold Accretion Called The World, So Terrible In The Mass, Is So Non Formidable, Even Pitiable, In Its Units.

I May Do Some Good Before I Am Dead--be A Sort Of Success As A Frightful Example Of What Not To Do; And So Illustrate A Moral Story.