There Is No Marriage In Heaven, But

Such Phantom Blossoms Palely Shining Over The Lifeless Boughs Of Time.

Genius Is A Bend In The Creek Where Bright Water Has Gathered, And Which Mirrors The Trees, The Sky And The Banks. It Just Does That Because It Is There And The Scenery Is There. Talent Is A Fine Mirror With A Silver Frame, With The Name Of The Owner Engraved On The Back.

And I Never Started To Plow In My Life That Some One Did Not Stop In The Road And Take Me Away To A Dance Or Picnic. I Ended Up With Forty Acres; I Ended Up With A Broken Fiddle— And A Broken Laugh, And A Thousand Memories, And Not A Single Regret.

I Have Known The Silence Of The Stars And Of The Sea. And The Silence Of The City When It Pauses, And The Silence Of A Man And A Maid, And The Silence For Which Music Alone Finds The Word.

The Earth Keeps Some Vibration Going There In Your Heart, And That Is You. And If The People Find You Can Fiddle, Why Fiddle You Must, For All Your Life.