A clear fire, a clean hearth, and the rigour of the game.

Nothing to me is more distasteful than that entire complacency and satisfaction which beam in the countenances of a new married couple; in that of the lady particularly; it tells you that her lot is disposed of in this world; that you can have no hopes for her.

Beholding heaven, and feeling hell.

How convalescence shrinks a man back to his pristine stature! where is now the space, which he occupied so lately, in his own, in the family's eye?

There was a little man, and he had a little soul; And he said, Little Soul, let us try, try, try!

I am in love with the green earth.

Cultivate simplicity, Coleridge.