Some Feelings Are To Mortals

When A Man Has Not A Good Reason For Doing A Thing, He Has One Good Reason For Letting It Alone.

The Happy Combination Of Fortuitous Circumstances.

November's Sky Is Chill And Drear, November's Leaf Is Red And Sear.

Ridicule, The Weapon Of All Others Most Feared By Enthusiasts Of Every Description, And Which From Its Predominance Over Such Minds, Often Checks What Is Absurd, And Fully As Often Smothers That Which Is Noble.

Oh, Poverty Parts Good Company.