It's Such A Happiness When Good People

To Wish Was To Hope, And To Hope Was To Expect

Her Pleasure In The Walk Must Arise From The Exercise And The Day, From The View Of The Last Smiles Of The Year Upon The Tawny Leaves And Withered Hedges, And From Repeating To Herself Some Few Of The Thousand Poetical Descriptions Extant Of Autumn-that Season Of Peculiar And Inexhaustible Influence On The Mind Of Taste And Tenderness-that Season Which Has Drawn From Every Poet Worthy Of Being Read Some Attempt At Description, Or Some Lines Of Feeling.

We All Know Him To Be A Proud, Unpleasant Sort Of Man; But This Would Be Nothing If You Really Liked Him.

One Man's Ways May Be As Good As Another's, But We All Like Our Own Best.

None But A Woman Can Teach The Science Of Herself.