I am all the time talking about you, and bragging, to one person or another. I am like the Ancient Mariner, who had a tale in his heart he must unfold to all. I am always buttonholing somebody and saying, "Someday you must meet my mother."

Her lawn looks like a meadow, And if she mows the place She leaves the clover standing And the Queen Anne's Lace.

Death devours all lovely things.

it may be said of me by Harper & Brothers, that although I reject their proposals, I welcome their advances.

I, being born a woman and distressed By all the needs and notions of my kind, Am urged by your propinquity to find Your person fair, and feel a certain zest To bear your body's weight upon my breast; So subtly is the fume of life designed, To clarify the pulse and cloud the mind, And leave me once again undone, possessed. Think not for this, however, the poor treason Of my stout blood against my staggering brain, I shall remember you with love, or season My scorn with pity, - let me make it plain: I find this frenzy insufficient reason For conversation when we meet again.

Soar, eat ether, see what has never been seen; depart, be lost, but climb.

I am glad that I paid so little attention to good advice; had I abided by it I might have been saved from some of my most valuable mistakes.