There Is A Vast Deal Of Vital

God Made The Rose Out Of What Was Left Of Woman At The Creation. The Great Difference Is, We Feel The Rose's Thorns When We Gather It; And The Other's When We Have Had It For Some Time.

Justice Is Often Pale And Melancholy; But Gratitude, Her Daughter, Is Constantly In The Flow Of Spirits And The Bloom Of Loveliness.

Let Me Take Up Your Metaphor. Friendship Is A Vase, Which, When It Is Flawed By Heat Or Violence Or Accident, May As Well Be Broken At Once; It Can Never Be Trusted After. The More Graceful And Ornamental It Was, The More Clearly Do We Discern The Hopelessness Of Restoring It To Its Former State. Coarse Stones, If They Are Fractured, May Be Cemented Again; Precious Stones, Never.

Friendship May Sometimes Step A Few Paces In Advance Of Truth.

My Thoughts Are My Company; I Can Bring Them Together, Select Them, Detain Them, Dismiss Them.