My Pen Shall Heal, Not Hurt.

The Woods Are Never Solitary — They Are Full Of Whispering, Beckoning, Friendly Life. But The Sea Is A Mighty Soul, Forever Moaning Of Some Great, Unshareable Sorrow, Which Shuts It Up Into Itself For All Eternity. We Can Never Pierce Its Infinite Mystery — We May Only Wander, Awed And Spellbound, On The Outer Fringe Of It. The Woods Call To Us With A Hundred Voices, But The Sea Has One Only — A Mighty Voice.

We Don't Know Where We're Going, But Isn't Is Fun To Go?

You Mayn't Get The Things Themselves; But Nothing Can Prevent You From Having The Fun Of Looking Forward To Them.

Children Can Be The Most Cruel Creatures Alive. They Have The Herd Instinct Of Prejudice Against Any Outsider, And They Are Merciless In Its Indulgence.

I Am Well In Body Although Considerable Rumpled Up In Spirit.