Alas! we makeA ladder of our thoughts, where angels step,But sleep ourselves at the foot: our high resolvesLook down upon our slumbering acts.
Hard are life's early steps; and but that youth is buoyant, confident, and strong in hope, men would behold its threshold, and despair.
There is no wretchedness like self-reproach.
But ignorance is happiness,When young Hope is to show the way
So much to win, so much to lose, No marvel that I fear to choose.
I never cast a flower away, A gift of one who car'd for me; A flower--a faded flower, But it was done reluctantly.
I would give worlds, could I believe One-half that is profess'd me; Affection! could I think it Thee, When Flattery has caress'd me.
Memory has many conveniences, and, among others, that of foreseeing things as they have afterwards happened.
Alas! the praise given to the ear Ne'er was nor ne'er can be sincere.
Restraint is the golden rule of enjoyment.
In our road through life we may happen to meet with a man casting a stone reverentially to enlarge the cairn of another which stone he has carried in his bosom to sling against that very other's head.
Oh, only those whose souls have felt this one idolatry can tell how precious is the slightest thing affection gives and hallows.
Thou know'st how fearless is my trust in thee.
The past is perpetual youth to the heart.
There is a large stock on hand; but somehow or other, nobody's experience ever suits us but our own.
Few save the poor feel for the poor.
When does the mind put forth its powers? when are the stores of memory unlocked? when does wit 'flash from fluent lips?' -- when but after a good dinner? Who will deny its influence on the affections? Half our friends are born of turbots and truffles.
... true love is like religion, it hath its silence and its sanctity.
We need to suffer, that we may learn to pity.
I do love violets; they tell the history of woman's love.
Delicious tears! The heart's own dew.
A friend is never alarmed for us in the right place.
Occupation is one great source of enjoyment. No man, properly occupied, was ever miserable.
I have no parting sigh to give, so take my parting smile.
If there be any one habit which more than another is the dry rot of all that is high and generous in youth, it is the habit of ridicule.
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