The Fearless Make Their Own Way.

A Sealed Book, At Whose Contents We Tremble.

So Much To Win, So Much To Lose, No Marvel That I Fear To Choose.

Of All The Follies That We Can Commit, The Greatest Is To Hesitate.

We Would Liken Music To Aladdin's Lamp — Worthless In Itself, Not So For The Spirits Which Obey Its Call. We Love It For The Buried Hopes, The Garnered Memories, The Tender Feelings, It Can Summon With A Touch.

How Often, In This Cold And Bitter World, Is The Warm Heart Thrown Back Upon Itself! Cold, Careless, Are We Of Another's Grief; We Wrap Ourselves In Sullen Selfishness.