Nothing But Love Can Answer To Love;

I Never Cast A Flower Away, A Gift Of One Who Car'd For Me; A Flower--a Faded Flower, But It Was Done Reluctantly.

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.

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.

In Sad Truth, Half Our Forebodings Of Our Neighbors Are But Our Own Wishes, Which We Are Ashamed To Utter In Any Other Form.

Though Fortune's Wheel Is Generally On The Turn, Sometimes When It Gets Into The Mud, It Sticks There.