That Deed Is Not Well Done Of

Would Not The Child's Heart Break In Despair When The First Cold Storm Of The World Sweeps Over It, If The Warm Sunlight Of Love From The Eyes Of Mother And Father Did Not Shine Upon Him Like The Soft Reflection Of Divine Light And Love?

I Was Shortly Again At The Castle, And The Princess Gave Me Her Hand To Kiss And Then Brought Her Children, The Young Princes And Princesses, And We Played Together, As If We Had Known Each Other For Years.

Victory Breeds Hatred, For The Conquered Is Unhappy.

It Is The Heart That Makes The Critic, Not The Nose.

I Spend My Happiest Hours In Reading Vedantic Books. They Are To Me Like The Light Of The Morning, Like The Pure Air Of The Mountains - So Simple, So True, If Once Understood.