Those Who Have Lost An Infant Are

There Seems A Life In Hair, Though It Be Dead.

I Entrench Myself In My Books Equally Against Sorrow And The Weather.

Fishes Do Not Roar; They Cannot Express Any Sound Of Suffering; And Therefore The Angler Chooses To Think They Do Not Suffer, More Than It Is Convenient For Him To Fancy. Now It Is A Poor Sport That Depends For Its Existence On The Want Of A Voice In The Sufferer, And Of Imagination In The Sportsman.

A Pleasure So Exquisite As Almost To Amount To Pain.

Words Are Often Things Also, And Very Precious, Especially On The Gravest Occasions. Without "words," And The Truth Of Things That Is In Them, What Were We?