Love Is The Measure Of Life; Only

In New York And New England The Sap Starts Up In The Sugar Maple The Very Day The Bluebird Arrives, And Sugar-making Begins Forthwith. The Bird Is Generally A Mere Disembodied Voice; A Rumor In The Air For Two Or Three Days Before It Takes Visible Shape Before You.

The Universe Is A Pretty Big Place... And The One Thing I Know About Nature Is It Hates To Waste Anything. So I Guess I'd Say If It Is Just Us, An Awful Lot Of Space Is Going To Waste. The Earth Is Not Alone, It Is Not Like A Single Apple On A Tree; There Are Many Apples On The Tree, And There Are Many Trees In The Orchard.

The Most Precious Things Of Life Are Near At Hand, Without Money And Without Price. Each Of You Has The Whole Wealth Of The Universe At Your Very Door. All That I Ever Had, And Still Have, May Be Yours By Stretching Forth Your Hand And Taking It.

The Simplicity Of Winter Has A Deep Moral. The Return Of Nature, After Such A Career Of Splendor And Prodigality, To Habits So Simple And Austere, Is Not Lost Either Upon The Head Or The Heart. It Is The Philosopher Coming Back From The Banquet And The Wine To A Cup Of Water And A Crust Of Bread.

In What Bold Relief Stand Out The Lives Of All Walkers Of The Snow! The Snow Is A Great Tell-tale, And Blabs As Effectually As It Obliterates. I Go Into The Woods, And Know All That Has Happened. I Cross The Fields, And If Only A Mouse Has Visited His Neighbor, The Fact Is Chronicled.