Misery Generates Hate.

The Man Of Regular Life And Rational Mind Never Despairs.

God Waits Only The Separation Of Spirit From Flesh To Crown Us With A Full Reward. Why, Then, Should We Ever Sink Overwhelmed With Distress, When Life Is So Soon Over, And Death Is So Certain An Entrance To Happiness -- To Glory?

Fortune Is Proverbially Called Changeful, Yet Her Caprice Often Takes The Form Of Repeating Again And Again A Similar Stroke Of Luck In The Same Quarter.

My Future Husband Was Becoming To Me My Whole World; And More Than The World: Almost My Hope Of Heaven. He Stood Between Me And Every Thought Of Religion, As An Eclipse Intervenes Between Man And The Broad Sun. I Could Not, In Those Days, See God For His Creature: Of Whom I Had Made An Idol.

I Have For The First Time Found What I Can Truly Love–i Have Found You. You Are My Sympathy–my Better Self–my Good Angel–i Am Bound To You With A Strong Attachment. I Think You Good, Gifted, Lovely: A Fervent, A Solemn Passion Is Conceived In My Heart; It Leans To You, Draws You To My Centre And Spring Of Life, Wrap My Existence About You–and, Kindling In Pure, Powerful Flame, Fuses You And Me In One.