... How Poorly Do We Love Even

Move Not In Your Anger; It Is Like Putting To Sea In A Tempest.

The Fate Of Love Is That It Always Seems Too Little Or Too Much.

Death Is Like The Setting Of The Sun. The Sun Never Sets; Life Never Ceases. ... We Think The Sun Sets, And It Never Ceases Shining; We Think Our Friends Die, And They Never Cease Living.

When We Leave Society And Come Into The Presence Of Nature, We Become Children Again; And The Fictions Of Thought And Action Assumed Among Men Drop Off Like A Garment.

There Are No Little Events In Life, Those We Think Of No Consequence May Be Full Of Fate, And It Is At Our Own Risk If We Neglect The Acquaintances And Opportunities That Seem To Be Casually Offered, And Of Small Importance.