You Cannot Expect Stone To Be As

My Heart Is Too Thoroughly Dried To Be Broken In A Hurry, And I Mean To Live As Long As I Can.

His Heart Was Like A Sensitive Plant, That Opens For A Moment In The Sunshine, But Curls Up And Shrinks Into Itself At The Slightest Touch Of The Finger, Or The Lightest Breath Of Wind.

To Regret The Exchange Of Earthly Pleasures For The Joys Of Heaven, Is As If The Grovelling Caterpillar Should Lament That It Must One Day Quit The Nibbled Leaf To Soar Aloft And Flutter Through The Air, Roving At Will From Flower To Flower, Sipping Sweet Honey From Their Cups, Or Basking In Their Sunny Petals.

I Am Satisfied That If A Book Is A Good One, It Is So Whatever The Sex Of The Author May Be. All Novels Are Or Should Be, Written For Both Men And Women To Read, And I Am At A Loss To Conceive How A Man Should Permit Himself To Write Anything That Would Be Really Disgraceful To A Woman, Or Why A Woman Should Be Censured For Writing Anything That Would Be Proper And Becoming For A Man.

There's Nothing Like Active Employment, I Suppose, To Console The Afflicted.