If Some Things Don't Make

A Single Grateful Thought Toward Heaven Is The Most Perfect Prayer.

Nature Intended That Woman Should Be Her Masterpiece.

My God, Grant That My Bounty May Be A Clear And Transparent River, Flowing From Pure Charity, And Uncontaminated By Self-love, Ambition, Or Interest. Thanks Are Due Not To Me, But Thee, From Whom All I Possess Is Derived. And What Are The Paltry Gifts For Which My Neighbor Forgets To Thank Me, Compared With The Immense Blessings For Which I Have So Often Forgotten To Be Grateful To Thee!

But How Many Moments Are Already Past! Ah! Who Thinks Of Those That Are Past?

Would That We Could At Once Paint With The Eyes! In The Long Way From The Eye Through The Arm To The Pencil, How Much Is Lost!