But Ignorance Is Happiness,when Young

That Which Is Always Within Our Reach, Is Always The Last Thing We Take; And The Chances Are, That What We Can Do Every Day, We Never Do At All.

There Are Words To Paint The Misery Of Love, But None To Paint Its Happiness.

The Dream On The Pillow, That Flits With The Day, The Leaf Of The Willow A Breath Wears Away; The Dust On The Blossom, The Spray On The Sea; Ay,--ask Thine Own Bosom-- Are Emblems Of Thee.

I Do Love Violets; They Tell The History Of Woman's Love.

Alas! The Praise Given To The Ear Ne'er Was Nor Ne'er Can Be Sincere.