Anticipation Is A Bad Sleeping Draught.

It Merely Shews, After All, That Affection Is A Habit.

Business Before Pleasure.

No Hour Arrives So Soon As The One We Dread.

I Cannot Love Evergreens - They Are The Misanthropes Of Nature. To Them The Spring Brings No Promise, The Autumn No Decline; They Are Cut Off From The Sweetest Of All Ties With Their Kind - Sympathy. ... I Will Have No Evergreens In My Garden; When The Inevitable Winter Comes, Every Beloved Plant And Favorite Tree Shall Drop Together - No Solitary Fir Left To Triumph Over The Companionship Of Decay.

A Sealed Book, At Whose Contents We Tremble.