Affection, Like Melancholy, Magnifies Trifles.

Hair Is The Most Delicate And Lasting Of Our Materials, And Survives Us, Like Love. It Is So Light, So Gentle; So Escaping From The Idea Of Death, That, With A Lock Of Hair Belonging To A Child Or Friend, We May Almost Look Up To Heaven And Compare Notes With The Angelic Nature,--may Almost Say, "i Have A Piece Of Thee Here Not Unworthy Of Thy Being Now.

Some Tears Belong To Us Because We Are Unfortunate; Others, Because We Are Humane; Many, Because We Are Mortal. But Most Are Caused By Our Being Unwise. It Is These Last Only That Of Necessity Produce More.

For The Most Part, We Should Pray Rather In Aspiration Than Petition, Rather By Hoping Than Requesting; In Which Spirit Also We May Breathe A Devout Wish For A Blessing On Others Upon Occasions When It Might Be Presumptuous To Beg It.

This Garden Has A Soul, I Know Its Moods.

If You Become A Nun, Dear, The Bishop Love Will Be; The Cupids Every One, Dear! Will Chant-'we Trust In Thee!'