Some people have a knack of putting upon you gifts of no real value, to engage you to substantial gratitude. We thank them for nothing.

The cheerful Sabbath bells, wherever heard, Strike pleasant on the sense, most like the voice Of one, who from the far-off hills proclaims Tidings of good to Zion.

In the indications of female poverty there can be no disguise. No woman dresses below herself from caprice.

All people have their blind side-their superstitions.

We love to chew the cud of a foregone vision; to collect the scattered rays of a brighter phantasm, or act over again, with firmer nerves, the sadder nocturnal tragedies.

New Year's Day is every man's birthday.

Do not fold, spindle or mutilate.