He Had An Affectionate Heart. He Must

..that Sanguine Expectation Of Happiness Which Is Happiness Itself

I Must Learn To Be Content With Being Happier Than I Deserve.

But There Was Happiness Elsewhere Which No Description Can Reach.

Vanity, Not Love, Has Been My Folly.

She Thought It Was The Misfortune Of Poetry, To Be Seldom Safely Enjoyed By Those Who Enjoyed It Completely; And That The Strong Feelings Which Alone Could Estimate It Truly, Were The Very Feelings Which Ought To Taste It But Sparingly.