Proud People Breed Sad Sorrows For Themselves.

He Might As Well Plant An Oak In A Flowerpot, And Expect It To Thrive, As Imagine He Can Restore Her To Vigour In The Soil Of His Shallow Cares!

In Secret Pleasure — Secret Tears This Changeful Life Has Slipped Away

The Lord Help Us!' He Soliloquised In An Undertone Of Peevish Displeasure, While Relieving Me Of My Horse: Looking, Meantime, In My Face So Sourly That I Charitably Conjectured He Must Have Need Of Divine Aid To Digest His Dinner, And His Pious Ejaculation Had No Reference To My Unexpected Advent.

Nonsense, Do You Imagine He Has Thought As Much Of You As You Have Of Him?

Time Brought Resignation And A Melancholy Sweeter Than Common Joy.