The hearts of some women tremble like leaves at every breath of love which reaches them, and they are still again. Others, like the ocean, are moved only by the breath of a storm, and not so easily lulled to rest.

What heart has not acknowledged the influence of this hour, the sweet and soothing hour of twilight, the hour of love, the hour of adoration, the hour of rest, when we think of those we love only to regret that we have not loved them more dearly, when we remember our enemies only to forgive them.

Age is opportunity no less than youth itself.

It is a beautiful trait in the lover's character, that they think no evil of the object loved.

Like a French poem is life; being only perfect in structure when with the masculine rhymes mingled the feminine are.

Stay, stay at home, my heart and rest; Home-keeping hearts are the happiest, For those that wander they know not where Are full of trouble and full of care; To stay at home is best.

If you would hit the mark, you must aim a little above it.