You, Sir, Are The Most Phantom-like Of

He Was The First To Recognise Me, And To Love What He Saw.

What The Deuce Is To Do Now?

We Know That God Is Everywhere; But Certainly We Feel His Presence Most When His Works Are On The Grandest Scale Spread Before Us; And It Is In The Unclouded Night-sky, Where His Worlds Wheel Their Silent Course, That We Read Clearest His Infinitude, His Omnipotence, His Omnipresence.

My Wretched Feet, Flayed And Swollen To Lameness By The Sharp Air Of January, Began To Heal And Subside Under The Gentler Breathings Of April; The Nights And Mornings No Longer By Their Canadian Temperature Froze The Very Blood In Our Veins; We Could Now Endure The Play-hour Passed In The Garden.

Happiness Quite Unshared Can Scarcely Be Called Happiness; It Has No Taste.