A poor relation is the most irrelevant thing in nature, a piece of non pertinent correspondence, an odious approximation, a haunting conscience, a preposterous shadow, lengthening in the noontide of our prosperity.

Friend of my bosom, thou more than a brother, Why wert thou not born in my father's dwelling?

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?"

Here cometh April again, and as far as I can see the world hath more fools in it than ever.

The light that lies In woman's eyes.

When true hearts lie wither'd And fond ones are flown, Oh, who would inhabit This bleak world alone?

I have been trying all my life to like Scotchmen, and am obliged to desist from the experiment in despair.