It Is Curious How Inseparable Eating And

How Often, In This Cold And Bitter World, Is The Warm Heart Thrown Back Upon Itself! Cold, Careless, Are We Of Another's Grief; We Wrap Ourselves In Sullen Selfishness.

How Beautiful, Buoyant, And Glad Is Morning! The First Sunshine On The Leaves: The First Wind, Laden With The First Breath Of The Flowers—that Deep Sigh With Which They Seem To Waken From Sleep; The First Dew, Untouched Even By The Light Foot Of The Early Hare; The First Chirping Of The Rousing Birds, As If Eager To Begin Song And Flight; All Is Redolent Of The Strength Given By Rest, And The Joy Of Conscious Life.

English People ... Never Speak, Excepting In Cases Of Fire Or Murder, Unless They Are Introduced.

Alas! The Praise Given To The Ear Ne'er Was Nor Ne'er Can Be Sincere.

Conscience, Like A Child, Is Soon Lulled To Sleep.