Constancy Has Nothing Virtuous In Itself, Independently

Sing Again, With Your Dear Voice Revealing. A Tone Of Some World Far From Ours, Where Music And Moonlight And Feeling Are One.

Where Is Perfection? Where I Cannot Reach.

Know What It Is To Be A Child? It Is To Be Something Very Different From The Man Of Today. It Is To Have A Spirit Yet Streaming From The Waters Of Baptism; It Is To Believe In Belief; It Is To Be So Little That Elves Can Reach To Whisper In Your Ear; It Is To Turn Pumpkins Into Coaches, And Mice Into Horses, Lowness Into Loftiness, And Nothing Into Everything, For Each Child Had Its Fairy Godmother In Its Soul.

I Have Been A Wanderer Among Distant Fields. I Have Sailed Down Mighty Rivers.

Nothing Wilts Faster Than Laurels That Have Been Rested Upon.