I Am Light As A Feather, I

... Still His Philanthropy Was Of That Gunpowderous Sort That The Difference Between It And Animosity Was Hard To Determine.

How Could You Give Me Life, And Take From Me All The Inappreciable Things That Raise It From The State Of Conscious Death? Where Are The Graces Of My Soul? Where Are The Sentiments Of My Heart? What Have You Done, Oh, Father, What Have You Done With The Garden That Should Have Bloomed Once, In This Great Wilderness Here? Said Louisa As She Touched Her Heart.

It Was A Long And Gloomy Night That Gathered On Me, Haunted By The Ghosts Of Many Hopes, Of Many Dear Remembrances, Many Errors, Many Unavailing Sorrows And Regrets.

"do Not Repine, My Friends," Said Mr. Pecksniff, Tenderly. "do Not Weep For Me. It Is Chronic."

A Smattering Of Everything, And A Knowledge Of Nothing.