But Certain Winds Will Make Men's Temper

It Is Always Fatal To Have Music Or Poetry Interrupted.

There's Folks 'ud Stand On Their Heads And Then Say The Fault Was I' Their Boots.

Our Dead Are Never Dead To Us, Until We Have Forgotten Them.

We Learn Words By Rote, But Not Their Meaning; That Must Be Paid For With Our Life-blood, And Printed In The Subtle Fibres Of Our Nerves.

Marriage, Which Has Been The Bourne Of So Many Narratives, Is Still A Great Beginning, As It Was To Adam And Eve, Who Kept Their Honey-moon In Eden, But Had Their First Little One Among The Thorns And Thistles Of The Wilderness. It Is Still The Beginning Of The Home Epic - The Gradual Conquest Or Irremediable Loss Of That Complete Union Which Make The Advancing Years A Climax, And Age The Harvest Of Sweet Memories In Common.