To Wheedle And Coax Is Safer Than

Life And Hope Must Cease Together.

The Bud, Though Plucked, Would Not Be Withered, Only Transplanted To A Fitter Soil To Ripen And Blow Beneath A Brighter Sun; And Though I Might Not Cherish And Watch My Child's Unfolding Intellect, He Would Be Snatched Away From All The Suffering And Sins Of Earth; And My Understanding Tells Me This Would Be No Great Evil; But My Heart Shrinks From The Contemplation Of Such A Possibility, And Whispers I Could Not Bear To See Him Die.

And Why Should He Interest Himself At All In My Moral And Intellectual Capacities: What Is It To Him What I Think And Feel?' I Asked Myself. And My Heart Throbbed In Answer To The Question.

No, Thank You, I Don't Mind The Rain,' I Said. I Always Lacked Common Sense When Taken By Surprise.

In Love Affairs, There Is No Mediator Like A Merry, Simple-hearted Child - Ever Ready To Cement Divided Hearts, To Span The Unfriendly Gulf Of Custom, To Melt The Ice Of Cold Reserve, And Overthrow The Separating Walls Of Dread Formality And Pride.