To A Mother, A Child Is Everything;

Taste, When Once Obtained, May Be Said To Be No Acquiring Faculty, And Must Remain Stationary; But Knowledge Is Of Perpetual Growth And Has Infinite Demands. Taste, Like An Artificial Canal, Winds Through A Beautiful Country, But Its Borders Are Confined And Its Term Is Limited. Knowledge Navigates The Ocean, And Is Perpetually On Voyages Of Discovery.

Debt Is A Prolific Mother Of Folly And Of Crime.

This Is To Be Observed Of The Bishop Of London, That, Though Apparently Of A Spirit Somewhat Austere, There Is In His Idiosyncrasy A Strange Fund Of Enthusiasm, A Quality Which Ought Never To Be Possessed By An Archbishop Of Canterbury, Or A Prime Minister Of England. The Bishop Of London Sympathies With Everything That Is Earnest; But What Is Earnest Is Not Always True; On The Contrary Error Is Often More Earnest Than Truth.

It Is The Lot Of Man To Suffer; It Is Also His Fortune To Forget. Oblivion And Sorrow Share Our Being, As Darkness And Light Divide The Course Of Time.

Expediency Is A Law Of Nature. The Camel Is A Wonderful Animal, But The Desert Made The Camel.