if you are not allowed to touch the heart sometimes in spite of syntax, and are not to be loved until you all know the difference between trimeter and trameter, may all Poetry go to the deuce, and every schoolmaster perish miserably!

To our betters eve can reconcile ourselves, if you please--respecting them sincerely, laughing at their jokes, making allowance for their stupidities, meekly suffering their insolence; but we can't pardon our equals going beyond us.

Is beauty beautiful, or is it only our eyes that make it so?

What man's life is not overtaken by one or more of those tornadoes that send us out of the course, and fling us on rocks to shelter as best we may?

Not only is the world informed of everything about you, but of a great deal more.

We are most of us very lonely in this world; you who have any who love you, cling to them and thank God.

Malice is of the boomerang character, and is apt to turn upon the projector.