Friendship May Sometimes Step A

We Cannot Be Contented Because We Are Happy, And We Cannot Be Happy Because We Are Contented.

Let Me Take Up Your Metaphor. Friendship Is A Vase, Which, When It Is Flawed By Heat Or Violence Or Accident, May As Well Be Broken At Once; It Can Never Be Trusted After. The More Graceful And Ornamental It Was, The More Clearly Do We Discern The Hopelessness Of Restoring It To Its Former State. Coarse Stones, If They Are Fractured, May Be Cemented Again; Precious Stones, Never.

I Delight In The Diffusion Of Learning; Yet, I Must Confess It, I Am Most Gratified And Transported At Finding A Large Quantity Of It In One Place; Just As I Would Rather Have A Solid Pat Of Butter At Breakfast, Than A Splash Of Grease Upon The Table-cloth That Covers Half Of It.

Where Power Is Absent We May Find The Robe Of Genius, But We Miss The Throne.

Death Stands Above Me, Whispering Low I Know Not What Into My Ear; Of His Strange Language All I Know Is, There Is Not A Word Of Fear.