The Fearless Make Their Own Way.

Alas! We Makea Ladder Of Our Thoughts, Where Angels Step,but Sleep Ourselves At The Foot: Our High Resolveslook Down Upon Our Slumbering Acts.

Ah, Tell Me Not That Memory Sheds Gladness O'er The Past, What Is Recalled By Faded Flowers, Save That They Did Not Last?

Society Is Like A Large Piece Of Frozen Water; And Skating Well Is The Great Art Of Social Life.

In Our Road Through Life We May Happen To Meet With A Man Casting A Stone Reverentially To Enlarge The Cairn Of Another Which Stone He Has Carried In His Bosom To Sling Against That Very Other's Head.

We Are Ourselves Our Happiness.