There Are Words To Paint The Misery

Youth, Balancing Itself Upon Hope, Is Forever In Extremes: Its Expectations Are Continually Aroused Only To Be Baffled, And Disappointment, Like A Summer Shower, Is Violent In Proportion To Its Brevity.

No Thoroughly Occupied Man Was Ever Yet Very Miserable.[to Feel Unhappy You Need The Time To Consider How Your Lot Could Be Better]

Our First Love-letter ... There Is So Much To Be Said, And Which No Words Seems Exactly To Say - The Dread Of Saying Too Much Is So Nicely Balanced By The Fear Of Saying Too Little. Hope Borders On Presumption, And Fear On Reproach.

The Truth Is, We Like To Talk Over Our Disasters, Because They Are Ours; And Others Like To Listen, Because They Are Not Theirs.

A Woman Only Can Understand A Woman.