Objects in pictures should so be arranged as by their very position to tell their own story.

Must it ever be thus-that the source of our happiness must also be the fountain of our misery? The full and ardent sentiment which animated my heart with the love of nature, overwhelming me with a torrent of delight, and which brought all paradise before me, has now become an insupportable torment, a demon which perpetually pursues and harrasses me.

All perishable is but an allegory.

Too many parents make life hard for their children by trying, too zealously, to make it easy for them.

So then the year is repeating its old story again. We are come once more, thank God! to its most charming chapter. The violets and the Mayflowers are as its inscriptions or vignettes. It always makes a pleasant impression on us, when we open again at these pages of the book of life.

Mediocrity has no greater consolation than in the thought that genius is not immortal.

Death is a commingling of eternity with time; in the death of a good man, eternity is seen looking through time.