But The Mere Truth Won't Do. You

Now, I Return To This Young Fellow. And The Communication I Have Got To Make Is, That He Has Great Expectations.

The Memories Which Peaceful Country Scenes Call Up, Are Not Of This World, Nor Of Its Thoughts And Hopes. Their Gentle Influence May Teach Us How To Weave Fresh Garlands For The Graves Of Those We Loved: May Purify Our Thoughts, And Bear Down Before It Old Enmity And Hatred; But Beneath All This, There Lingers, In The Least Reflective Mind, A Vague And Half-formed Consciousness Of Having Held Such Feelings Long Before, In Some Remote And Distant Time, Which Calls Up Solemn Thoughts Of Distant Times To Come, And Bends Down Pride And Worldliness Beneath It.

A Little Learning Is A Dangerous Thing, But A Little Patronage More So.

I Am Not Old, But My Young Way Was Never The Way To Age.

When The Wind Is Blowing And The Sleet Or Rain Is Driving Against The Dark Windows, I Love To Sit By The Fire, Thinking Of What I Have Read In Books Of Voyage And Travel.