You Are Human And Fallible.

Life Appears To Me Too Short To Be Spent In Nursing Animosity, Or Registering Wrongs.

I Thought I Loved Him When He Went Away; I Love Him Now In Another Degree: He Is More My Own. [ . . . ] Oh! A Thousand Weepers, Praying In Agony On Waiting Shores, Listened For That Voice, But It Was Not Uttered--not Uttered Till; When The Hush Came, Some Could Not Feel It: Till, When The Sun Returned, His Light Was Night To Some!

Memory In Youth Is Active And Easily Impressible; In Old Age It Is Comparatively Callous To New Impressions, But Still Retains Vividly Those Of Earlier Years.

What You Want To Ignite In Others Must First Burn Inside Yourself.

If He Were Insane, However, His Was A Very Cool And Collected Insanity.