Day, Like A Weary Pilgrim, Had Reached

Love Is Sunshine, Hate Is Shadow, Life Is Checkered Shade And Sunshine.

All Things Are Symbols.

A Feeling Of Sadness And Longing, That Is Not Akin To Pain, And Resembles Sorrow Only As The Mist Resembles The Rain.

The Lamps Are Lit, The Fires Burn Bright. The House Is Full Of Life And Light.

If The Mind, That Rules The Body, Ever So Far Forgets Itself As To Trample On Its Slave, The Slave Is Never Generous Enough To Forgive The Injury, But Will Rise And Smite The Oppressor.