Beauty Is That Quality Which, Next To

My Heart Is Too Thoroughly Dried To Be Broken In A Hurry, And I Mean To Live As Long As I Can.

Adieu! But Let Me Cherish, Still, The Hope With Which I Cannot Part. Contempt May Wound, And Coldness Chill, But Still It Lingers In My Heart. And Who Can Tell But Heaven, At Last, May Answer All My Thousand Prayers, And Bid The Future Pay The Past With Joy For Anguish, Smiles For Tears?

Beauty Is That Quality Which, Next To Money, Is Generally The Most Attractive To The Worst Kinds Of Men; And, Therefore, It Is Likely To Entail A Great Deal Of Trouble On The Possessor.

The Best Compliment To A Mother Is To Appreciate Her Little One.

My Cup Of Sweets Is Not Unmingled: It Is Dashed With A Bitterness That I Cannot Hide From Myself, Disguise It As I Will.