I Have An Affection For A Great

Music Is The Language Spoken By Angels.

More Hearts Are Breaking In This World Of Ours Than One Would Say. In Distant Villages And Solitudes Remote, Where Winds Have Wafted The Barbed Seeds Of Love, Or Birds Of Passage Scattered Them In Their Flight, Do They Take Root, And Grow In Silence, And In Silence Perish.

Ne Speaketh Not; And Yet There Lies A Conversation In His Eyes.

My Designs And Labors And Aspirations Are My Only Friends.

Happy Art Thou, As If Every Day Thou Hadst Picked Up A Horseshoe.