youth, balancing itself upon hope, is forever in extremes: its expectations are continually aroused only to be baffled, and disappointment, like a summer shower, is violent in proportion to its brevity.

No thoroughly occupied man was ever yet very miserable.

The past is perpetual youth to the heart.

All beginnings are very troublesome things.

Conscience, like a child, is soon lulled to sleep.

Truly, a little love-making is a very pleasant thing.

A friend is never alarmed for us in the right place.