There Is A Vast Deal Of Vital

Patience, Piety, And Salutary Knowledge Spring Up And Ripen Under The Harrow Of Affliction; Before There Is Wine Or Oil, The Grape Must Be Trodden And The Oil Pressed.

It Is Delightful To Kiss The Eyelashes Of The Beloved--is It Not? But Never So Delightful As When Fresh Tears Are On Them.

Delay In Justice Is Injustice.

Wrong Is But Falsehood Put In Practice.

The Damps Of Autumn Sink Into The Leaves And Prepare Them For The Necessity Of Their Fall; And Thus Insensibly Are We, As Years Close Around Us, Detached From Our Tenacity Of Life By The Gentle Pressure Of Recorded Sorrow.