No One Can Be Happy In Eternal

I Cannot Love A Man Who Cannot Protect Me.

To Represent A Bad Thing In Its Least Offensive Light Is, Doubtless, The Most Agreeable Course For A Writer Of Fiction To Pursue; But Is It The Most Honest, Or The Safest? Is It Better To Reveal The Snares And Pitfalls Of Like To The Young And Thoughtless Traveller, Or To Cover Them With Branches And Flowers? Oh, Reader! If There Were Less Of This Delicate Concealment Of Facts--this Whispering "peace, Peace," When There Is No Peace, There Would Be Less Of Sin And Misery To The Young Of Both Sexes Who Are Left To Wring Their Bitter Knowledge From Experience.

I Was Not Really Angry: I Felt For Him All The Time, And Longed To Be Reconciled; But I Determined He Should Make The First Advances, Or At Least Show Some Signs Of An Humble And Contrite Spirit, First; For, If I Began, It Would Only Minister To His Self-conceit, Increase His Arrogance, And Quite Destroy The Lesson I Wanted To Give Him.

And Then, The Unspeakable Purity - And Freshness Of The Air! There Was Just Enough Heat To Enhance The Value Of The Breeze, And Just Enough Wind To Keep The Whole Sea In Motion, To Make The Waves Come Bounding To The Shore, Foaming And Sparkling, As If Wild With Glee.

My Soul Is Awakened, My Spirit Is Soaring And Carried Aloft On The Wings Of The Breeze.