Belief In A Future Life

Was Genius Ever Ungrateful? Mere Talents Are Dry Leaves, Tossed Up And Down By Gusts Of Passion, And Scattered And Swept Away; But, Genius Lies On The Bosom Of Memory, And Gratitude At Her Feet.

Life Is But Sighs; And, When They Cease, 'tis Over.

Prose On Certain Occasions Can Bear A Great Deal Of Poetry; On The Other Hand, Poetry Sinks And Swoons Under A Moderate Weight Of Prose.

Teach Him To Live Unto God And Unto Thee; And He Will Discover That Women, Like The Plants In Woods, Derive Their Softness And Tenderness From The Shade.

Study Is The Bane Of Childhood, The Oil Of Youth, The Indulgence Of Adulthood, And A Restorative In Old Age.