Well Had Solomon Said,'better Is A Dinner

This Is A Terrible Hour, But It Is Often That Darkest Point Which Precedes The Rise Of Day; That Turn Of The Year When The Icy January Wind Carries Over The Waste At Once The Dirge Of Departing Winter, And The Prophecy Of Coming Spring.

Human Beings Must Love Something, And, In The Dearth Of Worthier Objects Of Affection, I Contrived To Find A Pleasure In Loving And Cherishing A Faded Graven Image, Shabby As A Miniature Scarecrow. It Puzzles Me Now To Remember With What Absurd Sincerity I Doated On This Little Toy, Half Fancying It Alive And Capable Of Sensation. I Could Not Sleep Unless It Was Folded In My Night-gown; And When It Lay There Safe And Warm, I Was Comparatively Happy, Believing It To Be Happy Likewise.

There's No Use In Weeping, Though We Are Condemned To Part: There's Such A Thing As Keeping, A Remembrance In One's Heart.

It Is Far Better To Endure Patiently A Smart Which Nobody Feels But Yourself, Than To Commit A Hasty Action Whose Evil Consequences Will Extend To All Connected With You.

Strange That Grief Should Now Almost Choke Me, Because Another Human Being's Eye Has Failed To Greet Mine.