The Little People Must Be Sacred To

Idleness Is The Heaviest Of All Oppressions.

No Religion But Blasphemes A Little.

We Shall Not Attempt To Give The Reader An Idea Of That Tetrahedron Nose-that Horse-shoe Mouth-that Small Left Eye Over-shadowed By A Red Bushy Brow, While The Right Eye Disappeared Entirely Under An Enormous Wart-of Those Straggling Teeth With Breaches Here And There Like The Battlements Of A Fortress-of That Horny Lip, Over Which One Of Those Teeth Projected Like The Tusk Of An Elephant-of That Forked Chin-and, Above All, Of The Expression Diffused Over The Whole-that Mixture Of Malice, Astonishment, And Melancholy. Let The Reader, If He Can, Figure To Himself This Combination.

There Is No Distress So Complete But That Even In The Most Critical Moments The Inexplicable Sunrise Of Hope Is Seen In Its Depths.

I Am Not In The World To Care For My Life, But For Souls.