The Secret Of Happiness Is Something To

Oh, Spring Is Surely Coming, Her Couriers Fill The Air; Each Morn Are New Arrivals, Each Night Her Ways Prepare; I Scent Her Fragrant Garments, Her Foot Is On The Stair.

How Much There Is In Books That One Does Not Want To Know, That It Would Be A Mere Weariness And Burden To The Spirit To Know.

I Am Not Going To Advocate ... The Abandoning Of The Improved Modes Of Travel; But I Am Going To Brag As Lustily As I Can On Behalf Of The Pedestrian, And Show How All The Shining Angels Second And Accompany The Man Who Goes Afoot, While All The Dark Spirits Are Ever Looking Out For A Chance To Ride.

When Nature Made The Blue-bird She Wished To Propitiate Both The Sky And The Earth, So She Gave Him The Color Of The One On His Back And The Hue Of The Other On His Breast.

The Simplicity Of Winter Has A Deep Moral. The Return Of Nature, After Such A Career Of Splendor And Prodigality, To Habits So Simple And Austere, Is Not Lost Either Upon The Head Or The Heart. It Is The Philosopher Coming Back From The Banquet And The Wine To A Cup Of Water And A Crust Of Bread.