There Is Perfect Love In

I Would Not Send A Poor Girl Into The World, Ignorant Of The Snares That Beset Her Path; Nor Would I Watch And Guard Her, Till, Deprived Of Self-respect And Self-reliance, She Lost The Power Or The Will To Watch And Guard Herself .

The Best Compliment To A Mother Is To Appreciate Her Little One.

There Is Always A But In This Imperfect World.

But Smiles And Tears Are So Alike With Me, They Are Neither Of Them Confined To Any Particular Feelings: I Often Cry When I Am Happy, And Smile When I Am Sad.

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.