To Those Who Know Thee Not, No

Subduing And Subdued, The Petty Strife, Which Clouds The Colour Of Domestic Life; The Sober Comfort, All The Peace Which Springs From The Large Aggregate Of Little Things; On These Small Cares Of Daughter, Wife Or Friend, The Almost Sacred Joys Of Home Depend.

The Misfortune Is, That Religious Learning Is Too Often Rather Considered As An Act Of The Memory Than Of The Heart And Affections; As A Dry Duty, Rather Than A Lively Pleasure.

The Roses Of Pleasure Seldom Last Long Enough To Adorn The Brow Of Him Who Plucks Them; For They Are The Only Roses Which Do Not Retain Their Sweetness After They Have Lost Their Beauty.

That Silence Is One Of The Great Arts Of Conversation Is Allowed By Cicero Himself, Who Says, There Is Not Only An Art, But Even An Eloquence In It

Temptation Does Not Make The Sin, It Lies Ready In The Heart.