Other Courtesies Have Been -

How Very Sad It Is To Have A Confiding Nature, One's Hopes And Feelings Are Quite At The Mercy Of All Who Come Along; And How Very Desirable To Be A Stolid Individual, Whose Hopes And Aspirations Are Safe In One's Waistcoat Pocket, And That A Pocket Indeed, And One Not To Be Picked!

I Must Go In, The Fog Is Rising.

Such Is The Force Of Happiness-- The Least Can Lift A Ton Assisted By Its Stimulus.

I Do Not Feel I Could Give Up All For Christ, Were I Called To Die.

Each That We Lose Takes A Part Of Us; A Crescent Still Abides, Which Like The Moon, Some Turbid Night, Is Summoned By The Tides.