Few Save The Poor Feel For The

Doubts, Like Facts, Are Stubborn Things.

There Is No Wretchedness Like Self-reproach.

Perhaps, From An Innate Desire Of Justification, Sorrow Always Exaggerates Itself. Memory Is Quite One Of Job's Friends; And The Past Is Ever Ready To Throw Its Added Darkness On The Present.

The Heart's Hushed Secret In The Soft Dark Eye.

Charity Is A Calm, Severe Duty; It Must Be Intellectual, To Be Advantageous. It Is A Strange Mistake That It Should Ever Be Considered A Merit; Its Fulfillment Is Only What We Owe To Each Other, And Is A Debt Never Paid To Its Full Extent.