The Song That We Hear With Our

When Passion And Habit Long Lie In Company It Is Only Slowly And With Incredulity That Habit Awakens To Finds Its Companion Fled, Itself Alone.

A Cruel Story Runs On Wheels, And Every Hand Oils The Wheels As They Run.

It Is Quite Easy For Stupid People To Be Happy; They Believe In Fables, And They Trot On In A Beaten Track Like A Horse On A Tramway.

Emulation Is Active Virtue; Envy Is Brooding Malice.

There Is A Chord In Every Heart That Has A Sigh In It If Touched Aright.