Our Deeds Are Fetters That We Forge

So Shall I Join The Choir Invisible Whose Music Is The Gladness Of The World.

Nature Repairs Her Ravages,--repairs Them With Her Sunshine And With Human Labor.

The Beauty Of A Lovely Woman Is Like Music ... The Rounded Neck, The Dimpled Arm, Move Us By Something More Than Their Prettiness--by Their Close Kinship With All We Have Known Of Tenderness And Peace.

The Scornful Nostril And The High Head Gather Not The Odors That Lie On The Track Of Truth.

Boots And Shoes Are The Greatest Trouble Of My Life. Everything Else One Can Turn And Turn About, And Make Old Look Like New; But There's No Coaxing Boots And Shoes To Look Better Than They Are.