A Best-seller Is The Gilded Tomb Of

An Echo Of Music, A Face In The Street, The Wafer Of The New Moon, A Wanton Thought - Only In The Iridescence Of Things The Vagabond Soul Is Happy.

All Reformers, However Strict Their Social Conscience, Live In Houses Just As Big As They Can Pay For.

Friends Such As We Desire Are Dreams And Fables, Yet We Never Quite Give Up The Hope Of Finding Them.

Those Who Set Out To Serve Both God And Mammon Soon Discover That There Isn't A God.

What Things There Are To Write, If One Could Only Write Them! My Mind Is Full Of Gleaming Thought; Gay Moods And Mysterious, Moth-like Meditations Hover In My Imagination, Fanning Their Painted Wings. But Always The Rarest, Those Streaked With Azure And The Deepest Crimson, Flutter Away Beyond My Reach.