Few Save The Poor Feel For The

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.

Nothing But Love Can Answer To Love; No Affection, No Kindness, No Care, Can Supply Its Place: It Is Its Own Sweet Want.

It Is Amazing How Much A Thought Expands And Refines By Being Put Into Speech: I Should Think It Could Hardly Know Itself.

I Would Give Worlds, Could I Believe One-half That Is Profess'd Me; Affection! Could I Think It Thee, When Flattery Has Caress'd Me.

Consistency Is A Human Word, But It Certainly Expresses Nothing Human.