To Be Sick Is To Enjoy Monarchical

If There Be A Regal Solitude, It Is A Sick-bed. How The Patient Lords It There!

My Only Books Were Woman's Looks,- And Folly 's All They 've Taught Me.

My Motto Is: Contented With Little, Yet Wishing For More.

What A Dead Thing Is A Clock, With Its Ponderous Embowelments Of Lead And Brass, Its Pert Or Solemn Dullness Of Communication, Compared With The Simple Altar-like Structure And Silent Heart-language Of The Old Sundials! It Stood As The Garden God Of Christian Gardens. Why Is It Almost Everywhere Vanished? If Its Business-use Be Superseded By More Elaborate Inventions, Its Moral Uses, Its Beauty, Might Have Pleaded For Its Continuance.

Not Many Sounds In Life, And I Include All Urban And All Rural Sounds, Exceed In Interest A Knock At The Door.