In Your Patience Ye Are Strong.

So Mothers Have God's License To Be Missed.

Of Writing Many Books There Is No End; And I Who Have Written Much In Prose And Verse For Others' Uses, Will Write Now For Mine,- Will Write My Story For My Better Self, As When You Paint Your Portrait For A Friend, Who Keeps It In A Drawer And Looks At It Long After He Has Ceased To Love You, Just To Hold Together What He Was And Is.

When We First Met And Loved, I Did Not Build Upon The Event With Marble. . . .

Many A Crown Covers Bald Foreheads.

Capacity For Joy Admits Temptation.