To Sigh, Yet Feel No Pain; To

It Is Well If The Good Man Himself Does Not Feel His Devotions A Little Clouded, Those Foggy Sensuous Steams Mingling With And Polluting The Pure Altar Surface.

Not If I Know Myself At All.

Anything Awful Makes Me Laugh. I Misbehaved Once At A Funeral.

We Were Happier When We Were Poorer, But We Were Also Younger.

We Love To Chew The Cud Of A Foregone Vision; To Collect The Scattered Rays Of A Brighter Phantasm, Or Act Over Again, With Firmer Nerves, The Sadder Nocturnal Tragedies.