Joy Descends Gently Upon Us Like The

God Is An Unutterable Sigh, Planted In The Depths Of The Soul.

Beauty Attracts Us Men; But If, Like An Armed Magnet It Is Pointed, Beside, With Gold And Silver, It Attracts With Tenfold Power.

What Cicero Said Of Men-that They Are Like Wines, Age Souring The Bad, And Bettering The Good-we Can Say Of Misfortune, That It Has The Same Effect Upon Them.

The Words That A Father Speaks To His Children In The Privacy Of Home Are Not Heard By The World, But, As In Whispering Galleries, They Are Clearly Heard At The End, And By Posterity.

Sorrows Are Like Thunderclouds, In The Distance They Look Black, Over Our Heads Scarcely Gray.