I Do Love Violets; They Tell The

I Cannot Love Evergreens - They Are The Misanthropes Of Nature. To Them The Spring Brings No Promise, The Autumn No Decline; They Are Cut Off From The Sweetest Of All Ties With Their Kind - Sympathy. ... I Will Have No Evergreens In My Garden; When The Inevitable Winter Comes, Every Beloved Plant And Favorite Tree Shall Drop Together - No Solitary Fir Left To Triumph Over The Companionship Of Decay.

I Cannot See Why A Taste For The Country Should Be Held So Very Indispensable A Requisite For Excellence; But Really People Talk Of It As If It Were A Virtue, And As If An Opposite Opinion Was, To Say The Least Of It, Very Immoral.

A Blossom Full Of Promise Is Life's Joy, That Never Comes To Fruit. Hope, For A Time, Suns The Young Floweret In Its Gladsome Light, And It Looks Flourishing--a Little While-- 't Is Pass'd, We Know Not Whither, But 't Is Gone.

The Lover And The Physician Are Each Popular From The Same Cause - We Talk To Them Of Nothing But Ourselves.

Strange Mystery Of Our Nature, That Those In Whom Genius Develops Itself In Imagination, Thus Taking Its Most Ethereal Form, Should Yet Be The Most Dependent On The Opinions Of Others!