Angling Is An Amusement Peculiarly Adapted To

True Love Will Not Brook Reserve; It Feels Undervalued And Outraged, When Even The Sorrows Of Those It Loves Are Concealed From It.

A Kind Heart Is A Fountain Of Gladness, Making Everything In Its Vicinity Freshen Into Smiles.

Some Minds Corrode And Grow Inactive Under The Loss Of Personal Liberty; Others Grow Morbid And Irritable; But It Is The Nature Of The Poet To Become Tender And Imaginitive In The Loneliness Of Confinement. He Banquets Upon The Honey Of His Own Thoughts, And, Like The Captive Bird, Pours Forth His Soul In Melody.

Small Minds Are Subdued By Misfortunes, Greater Minds Overcome Them.

There Is Something Nobly Simple And Pure In A Taste For The Cultivation Of Forest Trees. It Argues, I Think, A Sweet And Generous Nature To Have His Strong Relish For The Beauties Of Vegetation, And This Friendship For The Hardy And Glorious Sons Of The Forest. He Who Plants A Tree Looks Forward To Future Ages, And Plants For Posterity. Nothing Could Be Less Selfish Than This.