Which of us is happy in this world? Which of us has his desire? or, having it, is satisfied?

The book of female logic is blotted all over with tears, and Justice in their courts is forever in a passion.

In the midst of friends, home, and kind parents, she was alone.

Charlotte, having seen his body Borne before her on a shutter, Like a well-conducted person, Went on cutting bread and butter.

If fathers are sometimes sulky at the appearance of the destined son-in-law, is it not a fact that mothers become sentimental and, as it were, love their own loves over again.

Which, I wonder, brother reader, is the better lot, to die prosperous and famous, or poor and disappointed? To have, and to be forced to yield; or to sink out of life, having played and lost the game? That must be a strange feeling, when a day of our life comes and we say, 'To-morrow, success or failure won't matter much; and the sun will rise, and all the myriads of mankind go to their work or their pleasure as usual, but I shall be out of the turmoil.'

Let us be very gentle with our neighbors' failings, and forgive our friends their debts as we hope ourselves to be forgiven.