He Was Wise Enough To

A Man Is Lucky If He Is The First Love Of A Woman. A Woman Is Lucky If She Is The Last Love Of A Man.

It Was The First Time It Had Ever Occurred To Me, That This Detestable Cant Of False Humility Might Have Originated Out Of The Heep Family. I Had Seen The Harvest, But Had Never Thought Of The Seed.

Surely There Had Been No Figure Leaning On The Back Of His Chair; No Face Looking Over It. It Is Certain That No Gliding Footstep Touched The Floor, As He Lifted Up His Head, With A Start, And Spoke. And Yet There Was No Mirror In The Room On Whose Surface His Own Form Could Have Cast Its Shadow For A Moment; And, Something Had Passed Darkly And Gone!

You Touch Some Of The Reasons For My Going, Not For My Staying Away.

How Many Families, Whose Members Have Been Dispersed And Scattered Far And Wide, In The Restless Struggles Of Life, Are Then Reunited, And Meet Once Again In That Happy State Of Companionship And Mutual Goodwill, Which Is A Source Of Such Pure And Unalloyed Delight; And One So Incompatible With The Cares And Sorrows Of The World, That The Religious Belief Of The Most Civilized Nations, And The Rude Traditions Of The Roughest Savages, Alike Number It Among The First Joys Of A Future Condition Of Existence, Provided For The Blessed And Happy!