The Saddest Thing That Befalls A Soul

Thoughts Must Come Naturally, Like Wild-flowers; They Cannot Be Forced In A Hot-bed, Even Although Aided By The Leaf-mould Of Your Past.

A Man Gazing At The Stars Is Proverbially At The Mercy Of The Puddles In The Road.

A Bottomless Pit Of Violence, A Tower Of Babel Where All Are Speakers And No Hearers.

Vanity In Its Idler Moments Is Benevolent, Is As Willing To Give Pleasure As To Take It, And Accepts As Sufficient Reward For Its Services A Kind Word Or An Approving Smile.

A Poem Round And Perfect As A Star.