The best of friends fall out, and so his teeth had done some years ago.
Frost is the greatest artist in our clime - he paints in nature and describes in rime.
Comfort and indolence are cronies.
Alas for the rarity Of Christian charity Under the sun!
I remember, I remember The fir-trees dark and high; I used to think their slender tops Were close against the sky; It was a childish ignorance, But now 't is little joy To know I'm farther off from heaven Than when I was a boy.
Experience enables me to depose to the comfort and blessing that literature can prove in seasons of sickness and sorrow.