The Spring Is Already Here With Her

Your Theory Of Partial Immortality Is Abhorrent To Me. I Would Rather Disbelieve In The Immortality Of My Own Soul Than Suppose The Boon Given To Me Was Withheld From Any Of My Fellow Creatures.

The Death I Should Prefer Would Be To Break My Neck Off The Back Of A Good Horse At A Full Gallop On A Fine Day.

Cultivate In Young Minds An Equal Love Of The Good, The Beautiful And The Absurd; Most People's Lives Are Too Lead-colored To Lose The Smallest Twinkle Of Light From A Flash Of Nonsense.

Better Trust All, And Be Deceived, And Weep That Trust And That Deceiving, Than Doubt One Heart, That If Believed Had Blessed One's Life With True Believing.

In The North We Could Not Hope To Keep The Worst And Poorest Servant For A Single Day In The Wretched Discomfort In Which Our Negro Servants Are Forced Habitually To Live.