The Entire World Is A Collection Of

A Person Who Has Not Done One Half His Day's Work By Ten O Clock, Runs A Chance Of Leaving The Other Half Undone.

I Have Fled My Country And Gone To The Heather.

Whatever Our Souls Are Made Of, His And Mine Are The Same.

The Entire World Is A Collection Of Memoranda That She Did Exist, And That I Have Lost Her.

I Shall Smile When Wreaths Of Snow Blossom Where The Rose Should Grow.