Steady Of Heart And Stout Of Hand.

The Misery Of Keeping A Dog Is His Dying So Soon. But, To Be Sure, If He Lived For Fifty Years And Then Died, What Would Become Of Me?

No Scene Of Mortal Life But Teems With Mortal Woe.

Come Forth, Old Man,--thy Daughter's Side Is Now The Fitting Place For Thee: When Time Has Quell'd The Oak's Bold Pride, The Youthful Tendril Yet May Hide, The Ruins Of The Parent Tree.

From My Experience, Not One In Twenty Marries The First Love; We Build Statues Of Snow And Weep To See Them Melt.

Woman's Faith And Woman's Trust, Write The Characters In Dust.