Friend Of My Bosom, Thou

Alas! How Light A Cause May Move Dissension Between Hearts That Love! Hearts That The World In Vain Had Tried, And Sorrow But More Closely Tied; That Stood The Storm When Waves Were Rough, Yet In A Sunny Hour Fall Off, Like Ships That Have Gone Down At Sea When Heaven Was All Tranquillity.

Man, While He Loves, Is Never Quite Depraved.

It Is With Some Violation Of The Imagination That We Conceive Of An Actor Belonging To The Relations Of Private Life, So Closely Do We Identify These Persons In Our Mind With The Characters Which They Assume Upon The Stage.

Summer, As My Friend Coleridge Waggishly Writes, Has Set In With Its Usual Severity.

Tis The Privilege Of Friendship To Talk Nonsense, And To Have Nonsense Respected.