The Red-letter Days, Now Become,

If There Be A Regal Solitude, It Is A Sick-bed. How The Patient Lords It There!

The English Writer, Charles Lamb, Said One Day: "i Hate That Man." "but You Don't Know Him." "of Course, I Don't," Said Lamb. "do You Think I Could Possibly Hate A Man I Know?"

A Sweet Child Is The Sweetest Thing In Nature.

Books Think For Me. I Can Read Anything Which I Call A Book.

In The Indications Of Female Poverty There Can Be No Disguise. No Woman Dresses Below Herself From Caprice.