Ah, Tell Me Not That Memory Sheds

Our First Love-letter ... There Is So Much To Be Said, And Which No Words Seems Exactly To Say - The Dread Of Saying Too Much Is So Nicely Balanced By The Fear Of Saying Too Little. Hope Borders On Presumption, And Fear On Reproach.

Imagination Is To Love What Gas Is To The Balloon-that Which Raises It From Earth.

He Who Seeks Pleasure With Reference To Himself, Not Others, Will Ever Find That Pleasure Is Only Another Name For Discontent.

One Would Think That An Unsuccessful Volume Was Like A Degree In The School Of Reviewing. One Unread Work Makes The Judge Bitter Enough; But A Second Failure, And He Is Quite Desperate In His Damnation. I Do Believe One Half Of The Injustice - The Severity Of 'the Ungentle Craft' Originates In Its Own Want Of Success: They Cannot Forgive The Popularity Which Has Passed Them Over.

It Is A Curious Fact, But A Fact It Is, That Your Witty People Are The Most Hard-hearted In The World. The Truth Is, Fancy Destroys Feeling. The Quick Eye To The Ridiculous Turns Every Thing To The Absurd Side; And The Neat Sentence, The Lively Allusion, And The Odd Simile, Invest What They Touch With Something Of Their Own Buoyant Nature. Humor Is Of The Heart, And Has Its Tears; But Wit Is Of The Head, And Has Only Smiles - And The Majority Of Those Are Bitter.