I Will Look On The Stars And

Of All False Assertions That Ever Went Into The World Under The Banner Of A Great Name And The Mail Armor Of A Well-turned Phrase, Locke's Comparison Of The Mind To A Blank Sheet Of Paper Appears To Me Among The Most Untrue.

There Are Words To Paint The Misery Of Love, But None To Paint Its Happiness.

Toil Is The Portion Of Day, As Sleep Is That Of Night; But If There Be One Hour Of The Twenty-four Which Has The Life Of Day Without Its Labor, And The Rest Of Night Without Its Slumber, It Is The Lovely And Languid Hour Of Twilight.

It Is A Curious Fact, But One Which All Experience Owns, That People Do Not Desire So Much To Appear Better, As To Appear Different From What They Really Are.

Doubts, Like Facts, Are Stubborn Things.