The Man Who In This World Can

In My Garden, Care Stops At The Gate And Gazes At Me Wistfully Through The Bars.

Death Is The Ugly Fact Which Nature Has To Hide, And She Hides It Well.

We Have Two Lives; The Soul Of Man Is Like The Rolling World, One Half In Day, The Other Dipt In Night; The One Has Music And The Flying Cloud, The Other, Silence And The Wakeful Stars.

To-day Is Always Different From Yesterday.

It Is Not Of So Much Consequence What You Say, As How You Say It. Memorable Sentences Are Memorable On Account Of Some Single Irradiating Word.