Ink Is The Transcript Of Thought.

Sometimes, Only One Person Is Missing, And The Whole World Seems Depopulated.

Friendship, Sweet-resting Place Of The Soul, The Gloaming Wherein Our Hearts Find Peace.

The Loss Of A Mother Is Always Keenly Felt, Even If Her Health Be Such As To Incapacitate Her From Taking An Active Part In The Care Of The Family. She Is The Sweet Rallying-point For Affection, Obedience, And A Thousand Tendernesses. Dreary The Blank When She Is Withdrawn!

Private Passions Grow Tired And Wear Themselves Out; Political Passions, Never.

Radicalism Is But The Desperation Of Logic.