Nature Seems To Have Poured

Preparations Are Good In Life, Prologues Ruinous.

Tragedy Is Always A Mistake; And The Loneliness Of The Deepest Thinker, The Widest Lover, Ceases To Be Pathetic To Us So Soon As The Sun Is High Enough Above The Mountains.

Our Desires, Once Realized, Haunt Us Again Less Readily.

No Temple Can Still The Personal Griefs And Strifes In The Breasts Of Its Visitors.

We Doubt Not The Destiny Of Our Country That She Is To Accomplish Great Things For Human Nature, And Be The Mother Of A Nobler Race Than The World Has Yet Known. But She Has Been So False To The Scheme Made Out At Her Nativity, That It Is Now Hard To Say Which Way That Destiny Points.