I Consider A Story Merely As A

The Sorrow For The Dead Is The Only Sorrow From Which We Refuse To Be Divorced.

[i]n The Gloomy Month Of February.... The Deserts Of Arabia Are Not More Dreary And Inhospitable Than The Streets Of London At Such A Time.

The Scholar Only Knows How Dear These Silent, Yet Eloquent, Companions Of Pure Thoughts And Innocent Hours Become In The Season Of Adversity. When All That Is Worldly Turns To Dross Around Us, These Only Retain Their Steady Value.

There Is In Every True Woman's Heart, A Spark Of Heavenly Fire, Which Lies Dormant In The Broad Daylight Of Prosperity, But Which Kindles Up And Beams And Blazes In The Dark Hour Of Adversity.

The Easiest Thing To Do, Whenever You Fail, Is To Put Yourself Down By Blaming Your Lack Of Ability For Your Misfortunes.