The Tree Is But A Huge Boquet.

Sometimes Fear Is Wholesome And Rational; It Is Well To Swing Fear As A Mighty Battle-axe Over Men's Heads When No Other Motive Will Move Them.

When A Man Can Look Upon The Simple Wild-rose, And Feel No Pleasure, His Taste Has Been Corrupted.

Indeed, Unless A Man Can Link His Written Thoughts With The Everlasting Wants Of Men, So That They Shall Draw More From Them As Wells, There Is No More Immortality To The Thoughts And Feelings Of The Soul Than To The Muscles And Bones.

Some People Are So Dry That You Might Soak Them In A Joke For A Month And It Would Not Get Through Their Skins.

The Babe At First Feeds Upon The Mother's Bosom, But It Is Always On Her Heart.