A Good Thing Can't Be Cruel.

I Am No More Annoyed When I Think Of The Expression, Than I Should Be Annoyed By A Man's Opinion Of A Picture Of Mine, Who Had No Eye For Pictures; Or Of A Piece Of Music Of Mine, Who Had No Ear For Music.

Try Not To Associate Bodily Defect With Mental, My Good Friend, Except For A Solid Reason

"walter," She Said, Looking Full Upon Him With Her Affectionate Eyes, "like You, I Hope For Better Things. I Will Pray For Them, And Believe That They Will Arrive."

Blackened Skeleton Arms Of Wood By The Wayside Pointed Upward To The Convent, As If The Ghosts Of Former Travellers, Overwhelmed By The Snow, Haunted The Scene Of Their Distress. Icicle-hung Caves And Cellars Built For Refuges From Sudden Storms, Were Like So Many Whispers Of The Perils Of The Place; Never-resting Wreaths And Mazes Of Mist Wandered About, Hunted By A Moaning Wind; And Snow, The Besetting Danger Of The Mountain, Against Which All Its Defences Were Taken, Drifted Sharply Down.

It's In Vain To Recall The Past, Unless It Works Some Influence Upon The Present.