Whenever I hear French spoken as I approve, I find myself quietly falling in love.

There is nothing certain in a man's life but that he must lose it.

We gain justice, judgment, with years, or else years are in vain.

Words, however, are things.

No true love there can be without Its dread penalty--jealousy.

That's best Which God sends. 'Twas His will: it is mine.

We are but as the instrument of Heaven.