When A Lady Condescends To Apologise, There

The Bud, Though Plucked, Would Not Be Withered, Only Transplanted To A Fitter Soil To Ripen And Blow Beneath A Brighter Sun; And Though I Might Not Cherish And Watch My Child's Unfolding Intellect, He Would Be Snatched Away From All The Suffering And Sins Of Earth; And My Understanding Tells Me This Would Be No Great Evil; But My Heart Shrinks From The Contemplation Of Such A Possibility, And Whispers I Could Not Bear To See Him Die.

No; For Instead Of Delivering Myself Up To The Full Enjoyment Of The As Others Do, I Am Always Troubling My Head About How I Could Produce The Same Effect Upon Canvas; And As That Can Never Be Done, It Is Mere Vanity And Vexation Of Spirit.

Because I Imagine There Must Be Only A Very, Very Few Men In The World, That I Should Like To Marry; And Of Those Few, It Is Ten To One I May Never Be Acquainted With One; Or If I Should, It Is Twenty To One He May Not Happen To Be Single, Or To Take A Fancy To Me.

Life And Hope Must Cease Together.

But, God Knows Best, I Concluded.