What is there in the vale of lifeHalf so delightful as a wife;When friendship, love and peace combineTo stamp the marriage-bond divine?

It chills my blood to hear the blest Supreme Rudely appealed to on each trifling theme.

Tea - the cups that cheer but not inebriate.

Solitude, seeming a sanctuary, proves a grave; a sepulchre in which the living lie, where all good qualities grow sick and die

The cares of today are seldom those of tomorrow, and when we lie down at night we may safely say to most of our troubles, "Ye have done your worst, and we shall see you no more."

Elegant as simplicity, and warm As ecstasy.

His wit invites you by his looks to come, But when you knock, it never is at home.