We Are Ourselves Our Happiness.

I Cannot Love Evergreens - They Are The Misanthropes Of Nature. To Them The Spring Brings No Promise, The Autumn No Decline; They Are Cut Off From The Sweetest Of All Ties With Their Kind - Sympathy. ... I Will Have No Evergreens In My Garden; When The Inevitable Winter Comes, Every Beloved Plant And Favorite Tree Shall Drop Together - No Solitary Fir Left To Triumph Over The Companionship Of Decay.

So Much To Win, So Much To Lose, No Marvel That I Fear To Choose.

Nothing But Love Can Answer To Love; No Affection, No Kindness, No Care, Can Supply Its Place: It Is Its Own Sweet Want.

Repentance Is A One-faced Janus, Ever Looking To The Past.

Farewell's A Bitter Word To Say.