Write Me As One Who Loves His

Great Women Belong To History And To Self-sacrifice, Not To The Annals Of A Stage, However Dignified.

The Only Place A New Hat Can Be Carried Into With Safety Is A Church, For There Is Plenty Of Room There.

Central Depth Of Purple, Leaves More Bright Than Rose, Who Shall Tell What Brightest Thought Out Of Darkness Grows? Who, Through What Funereal Pain, Souls To Love And Peace Attain? - Leigh Hunt (james Henry Leigh Hunt

Nature, At All Events, Humanly Speaking, Is Manifestly Very Fond Of Color; For She Has Made Nothing Without It. Her Skies Are Blue; Her Fields, Green; Her Waters Vary With Her Skies; Her Animals, Vegetables, Minerals, Are All Colored. She Paints A Great Any Of Them In Apparently Superfluous Hues, As If To Show The Dullest Eye How She Loves Color.

Colors Are The Smiles Of Nature. When They Are Extremely Smiling, And Break Forth Into Other Beauty Besides, They Are Her Laughs.