Hope Is A Thing With Feathers

How Happy Is The Little Stone That Rambles In The Road Alone, And Doesn't Care About Careers, And Exigencies Never Fears; Whose Coat Of Elemental Brown A Passing Universe Put On; And Independent As The Sun, Associates Or Glows Alone, Fulfilling Absolute Decree In Casual Simplicity.

The Power To Console Is Not Within Corporeal Reach - Though Its Attempt Is Precious.

The Life We Have Is Very Great. The Life That We Shall See Surpasses It, We Know, Because It Is Infinity, But When All Space Has Been Beheld And All Dominion Shown The Smallest Human Heart's Extent Reduces It To None.

Prayer Is The Little Implement Through Which Men Reach; Where Presence Is Denied Them.

The Friend Anguish Reveals Is The Slowest Forgot.