All The Worth Of Some

Days, Months, Years Fly Away, And Irrecoverably Sink In The Abyss Of Time.

Criticism Is Often Not A Science; It Is A Craft, Requiring More Good Health Than Wit, More Hard Work Than Talent, More Habit Than Native Genius. In The Hands Of A Man Who Has Read Widely But Lacks Judgment, Applied To Certain Subjects It Can Corrupt Both Its Readers And The Writer Himself.

One Seeks To Make The Loved One Entirely Happy, Or, If That Cannot Be, Entirely Wretched.

In All Conditions Of Life A Poor Man Is A Near Neighbor To An Honest One, And A Rich Man Is As Little Removed From A Knave.

Sudden Love Is Latest Cured.