Because The Road Is Rough And Long,

Preserve Me From Such Cordiality! It Is Like Handling Briar-roses And May-blossoms - Bright Enough To The Eye, And Outwardly Soft To The Touch, But You Know There Are Thorns Beneath, And Every Now And Then You Feel Them Too; And Perhaps Resent The Injury By Crushing Them In Till You Have Destroyed Their Power, Though Somewhat To The Detriment Of Your Own Fingers.

Adieu! But Let Me Cherish, Still, The Hope With Which I Cannot Part. Contempt May Wound, And Coldness Chill, But Still It Lingers In My Heart. And Who Can Tell But Heaven, At Last, May Answer All My Thousand Prayers, And Bid The Future Pay The Past With Joy For Anguish, Smiles For Tears?

You Might As Well Sell Yourself To Slavery At Once, As Marry Man You Dislike.

I Cannot Love A Man Who Cannot Protect Me.

To Wheedle And Coax Is Safer Than To Command.