Your Life Story Is A Novel; And

In Prosperity Prayers Seem But A Mere Medley Of Words, Until Misfortune Comes And The Unhappy Sufferer First Understands The Meaning Of The Sublime Language In Which He Invokes The Pity Of Heaven!

I Have Always Had More Dread Of A Pen, A Bottle Of Ink, And A Sheet Of Paper Than Of A Sword Or Pistol.

Ah," Said The Jailer, "do Not Always Brood Over What Is Impossible, Or You Will Be Mad In A Fortnight.

I Do Not Often Laugh, Sir, As You May Perceive By The Air Of My Countenance; But Nevertheless, I Retain The Privilege Of Laughing When I Please.

I Have No Will, Unless It Be The Will Never To Decide. I Have Been So Overwhelmed By The Many Storms That Have Broken Over My Head, That I Am Become Passive In The Hands Of The Almighty, Like A Sparrow In The Talons Of An Eagle. I Live, Because It Is Not Ordained For Me To Die.