I Do Not Think That Life Has

The Dream On The Pillow, That Flits With The Day, The Leaf Of The Willow A Breath Wears Away; The Dust On The Blossom, The Spray On The Sea; Ay,--ask Thine Own Bosom-- Are Emblems Of Thee.

It Is Said That Ridicule Is The Test Of Truth; But It Is Never Applied Except When We Wish To Deceive Ourselves - When If We Cannot Exclude The Light, We Would Fain Draw The Curtain Before It. The Sneer Springs Out Of The Wish To Deny; And Wretched Must That State Of Mind Be, That Wishes To Take Refuge In Doubt.

One Would Think That An Unsuccessful Volume Was Like A Degree In The School Of Reviewing. One Unread Work Makes The Judge Bitter Enough; But A Second Failure, And He Is Quite Desperate In His Damnation. I Do Believe One Half Of The Injustice - The Severity Of 'the Ungentle Craft' Originates In Its Own Want Of Success: They Cannot Forgive The Popularity Which Has Passed Them Over.

In Marriage, As In Chemistry, Opposites Have Often An Attraction.

That Which Is Always Within Our Reach, Is Always The Last Thing We Take; And The Chances Are, That What We Can Do Every Day, We Never Do At All.