A Tart Temper Never Mellows With Age,

In Civilized Life, Where The Happiness, And Indeed Almost The Existence, Of Man Depends So Much Upon The Opinion Of His Fellow Men, He Is Constantly Acting A Studied Part.

A Woman's Whole Life Is A History Of The Affections. The Heart Is Her World: It Is There Her Ambition Strives For Empire; It Is There Her Avarice Seeks For Hidden Treasures. She Sends Forth Her Sympathies On Adventure; She Embarks Her Whole Soul On The Traffic Of Affection; And If Shipwrecked, Her Case Is Hopeless — For It Is A Bankruptcy Of The Heart.

He Who Would Study Nature In Its Wildness And Variety, Must Plunge Into The Forest, Must Explore The Glen, Must Stem The Torrent, And Dare The Precipice.

Poetry Had Breathed Over And Sanctified The Land.

No Man Is So Methodical As A Complete Idler, And None So Scrupulous In Measuring Out His Time As He Whose Time Is Worth Nothing.