We have not to construct human nature afresh, but to take it as we find it, and make the best of it.

Down in the deep, up in the sky , I see them always, far or nigh, And I shall see them till I die The old familiar faces.

O blest one hour like this! to rise And see grief's shadows backward roll; While bursts on unaccustomed eyes The glad Aurora of the soul.

With faces like dead lovers who died true.

Better no marriage, than a marriage short of the best.

Every man for himself, and the Devil take the hindmost.

Let every one of us cultivate, in every word that issues from our mouth, absolute truth. I say cultivate, because to very few people - as may be noticed of most young children - does truth, this rigid, literal veracity, come by nature. To many, even who love it and prize it dearly in others, it comes only after the self-control, watchfulness, and bitter experience of years.