In All Disappointments Sympathy Is

But The Cloud Never Comes In That Quarter Of The Horizon From Which We Watch For It.

Man, Through All Ages Of Revolving Time, Unchanging Man, In Every Varying Clime, Deems His Own Land Of Every Land The Pride, Beloved By Heaven O'er All The World Beside; Home, The Spot Of Earth Supremely Blest, A Dearer, Sweeter Spot Than All The Rest.

As She Realized What Might Have Been, She Grew To Be Thankful For What Was.

Nevertheless, His Moustachios Are Splendid.

I Wish I Could Love People As You Do, Molly!' 'don't You?' Said The Other, In Surprise. 'no. A Good Number Of People Love Me, I Believe, Or At Least They Think They Do; But I Never Seem To Care Much For Any One. I Do Believe I Love You, Little Molly, Whom I Have Only Known For Ten Days, Better Than Any One.