After all, for how many of our happiest feelings are we indebted to the weakness of our nature.

The man that is wise at nineteen, "Je l'en fais mon compliment," but I assuredly do not envy him; and now, even now, when I number more years than I should like to "confess," rather than suffer the suspicious watchfulness of age to creep on me, I prefer to "go on believing," even though every hour of the day should show me, duped and deceived.

While I plead guilty to this impeachment, let me show mitigation, that it has its enjoyments--first, although I am the most constant and devoted man breathing, as a very cursory glance at these confessions may prove, yet I have never been able to restrain myself from a propensity to make love, merely as a pastime.
The gambler that sits down to play cards, or hazard against himself, may perhaps be the only person that can comprehend this tendency of mine.

We both of us are playing for nothing (or love, which I suppose is synonymous;) we neither of us put forth our strength; for that very reason, and in fact like the waiter at Vauxhall who was complimented upon the dexterity with which he poured out the lemonade, and confessed that he spent his mornings "practising with vater," we pass a considerable portion of our lives in a mimic warfare, which, if it seem unprofitable, is, nevertheless, pleasant.
After all this long tirade, need I say how our walk proceeded?
We had fallen into a kind of discussion upon the singular intimacy which had so rapidly grown up amongst us, and which years long might have failed to engender.

Our attempts to analyse the reasons for, and the nature of the friendship thus so suddenly established--a rather dangerous and difficult topic, when the parties are both young--one eminently handsome, and the other disposed to be most agreeable.