No One Can Be Happy

To Represent A Bad Thing In Its Least Offensive Light Is, Doubtless, The Most Agreeable Course For A Writer Of Fiction To Pursue; But Is It The Most Honest, Or The Safest? Is It Better To Reveal The Snares And Pitfalls Of Like To The Young And Thoughtless Traveller, Or To Cover Them With Branches And Flowers? Oh, Reader! If There Were Less Of This Delicate Concealment Of Facts--this Whispering "peace, Peace," When There Is No Peace, There Would Be Less Of Sin And Misery To The Young Of Both Sexes Who Are Left To Wring Their Bitter Knowledge From Experience.

I Wished To Tell The Truth, For Truth Always Conveys Its Own Moral To Those Who Are Able To Receive It.

I Was Not Really Angry: I Felt For Him All The Time, And Longed To Be Reconciled; But I Determined He Should Make The First Advances, Or At Least Show Some Signs Of An Humble And Contrite Spirit, First; For, If I Began, It Would Only Minister To His Self-conceit, Increase His Arrogance, And Quite Destroy The Lesson I Wanted To Give Him.

The Ties That Bind Us To Life Are Tougher Than You Imagine, Or Than Any One Can Who Has Not Felt How Roughly They May Be Pulled Without Breaking.

You Might As Well Sell Yourself To Slavery At Once, As Marry Man You Dislike.