Our First And Last Love Is Self-love.

Earth Took Her Shining Station As A Star, In Heaven's Dark Hall, High Up The Crowd Of Worlds.

The Language Of The Heart--the Language Which "comes From The Heart" And "goes To The Heart"--is Always Simple, Always Graceful, And Always Full Of Power, But No Art Of Rhetoric Can Teach It. It Is At Once The Easiest And Most Difficult Language--difficult, Since It Needs A Heart To Speak It; Easy, Because Its Periods Though Rounded And Full Of Harmony, Are Still Unstudied.

False Friends Are Like Our Shadow, Keeping Close To Us While We Walk In The Sunshine, But Leaving Us The Instant We Cross Into The Shade.

It Is Ever The Invisible That Is The Object Of Our Profoundest Worship. With The Lover It Is Not The Seen But The Unseen That He Muses Upon.

The Reveries Of The Dreamer Advance His Hopes, But Not Their Realization. One Good Hour Of Earnest Work Is Worth Them All.