Childhood, Whose Very Happiness Is Love.

It Is Said That Ridicule Is The Test Of Truth; But It Is Never Applied Except When We Wish To Deceive Ourselves - When If We Cannot Exclude The Light, We Would Fain Draw The Curtain Before It. The Sneer Springs Out Of The Wish To Deny; And Wretched Must That State Of Mind Be, That Wishes To Take Refuge In Doubt.

I Do Not Think That Life Has A Suspense More Sickening Than That Of Expecting A Letter Which Does Not Come.

Though Fortune's Wheel Is Generally On The Turn, Sometimes When It Gets Into The Mud, It Sticks There.

Youth Is A Season That Has No Repose.

There Is No Wretchedness Like Self-reproach.