If The Parks Be "the Lungs Of

Never Imitate The Eccentricities Of Genius, But Toil After It In Its Truer Flights. They Are Not So Easy To Follow, But They Lead To Higher Regions.

The Cramped Monotony Of My Existence Grinds Me Away By The Grain.

One Should Never Be Ashamed To Cry. Tears Are Rain On The Dust Of Earth.

Every Man, However Obscure, However Far Removed From The General Recognition, Is One Of A Group Of Men Impressible For Good, And Impressible For Evil, And It Is In The Nature Of Things That He Cannot Really Improve Himself Without In Some Degree Improving Other Men.

On The Motionless Branches Of Some Trees, Autumn Berries Hung Like Clusters Of Coral Beads, As In Those Fabled Orchards Where The Fruits Were Jewels . . .