The Beauty Of A Lovely Woman Is

A Difference Of Taste In Jokes Is A Great Strain On The Affections.

Childhood Has No Forebodings; But Then, It Is Soothed By No Memories Of Outlived Sorrow.

To Be A Poet Is To Have A Soul So Quick To Discern, That No Shade Of Quality Escapes It, And So Quick To Feel, That Discernment Is But A Hand Playing With Finely-ordered Variety On The Chords Of Emotion--a Soul In Which Knowledge Passes Instantaneously Into Feeling, And Feeling Flashes Back As A New Organ Of Knowledge.

To An Old Memory Like Mine The Present Days Are But As A Little Water Poured On The Deep.

Might, Could, Would - They Are Contemptible Auxiliaries.