Big Words Do Not Smite Like War-clubs,

So Disasters Come Not Singly; But As If They Watched And Waited, Scanning One Another's Motions, When The First Descends, The Others Follow, Follow, Gathering Flock-wiseround Their Victim, Sick And Wounded, First A Shadow, Then A Sorrow, Till The Air Is Dark With Anguish.

I See, But Cannot Reach, The Height That Lies Forever In The Light.

The Greatest Grace Of A Gift, Perhaps, Is That It Anticipates And Admits Of No Return.

Were A Star Quenched On High,for Ages Would Its Light,still Travelling Downward From The Sky,shine On Our Mortal Sight. So When A Great Man Dies,for Years Beyond Our Ken,the Light He Leaves Behind Him Liesupon The Paths Of Men.

Give What You Have. To Some One, It May Be Better Than You Dare To Think.