All Sense Of Hearing And Of Sight

Our Pleasures And Our Discontents, Are Rounds By Which We May Ascend.

The Best Thing One Can Do When It's Raining Is To Let It Rain.

Something The Heart Must Have To Cherish, Must Love And Joy And Sorrow Learn; Something With Passion Clasp, Or Perish And In Itself To Ashes Burn.

Fear Is The Virtue Of Slaves; But The Heart That Loveth Is Willing.

More Hearts Are Breaking In This World Of Ours Than One Would Say. In Distant Villages And Solitudes Remote, Where Winds Have Wafted The Barbed Seeds Of Love, Or Birds Of Passage Scattered Them In Their Flight, Do They Take Root, And Grow In Silence, And In Silence Perish.