We Need To Suffer, That We May

Toil Is The Portion Of Day, As Sleep Is That Of Night; But If There Be One Hour Of The Twenty-four Which Has The Life Of Day Without Its Labor, And The Rest Of Night Without Its Slumber, It Is The Lovely And Languid Hour Of Twilight.

The Past Is Perpetual Youth To The Heart.

How Very Satisfactory Those Discussions Must Be, Where Each Party Retains Their Own Opinion!

Imagination Is To Love What Gas Is To The Balloon-that Which Raises It From Earth.

Who Has Not Experienced, At Some Time Or Other, That Words Had All The Relief Of Tears?