True love's the gift which God has given To man alone beneath the heaven: It is not fantasy's hot fire, Whose wishes soon as granted fly; It liveth not in fierce desire.

He that would soothe sorrow must not argue on the vanity of the most deceitful hopes.

Sleep in peace, and wake in joy.

Woman's faith and woman's trust, Write the characters in dust.

Vengeance to God alone belongs; But, when I think of all my wrongs My blood is liquid flame!

Guilt, though it may attain temporal splendor, can never confer real happiness; the evil consequences of our crimes long survive their commission, and, like the ghosts of the murdered, forever haunt the steps of the malefactor; while the paths of virtue, though seldom those of worldly greatness, are always those of pleasantness and peace.

Women are but the toys which amuse our lighter hours---ambition is the serious business of life.