Death Is No More Than Passing From

When We Complain Of Having To Do The Same Thing Over And Over, Let Us Remember That God Does Not Send New Trees, Strange Flowers And Different Grasses Every Year. When The Spring Winds Blow, They Blow In The Same Way. In The Same Places The Same Dear Blossoms Lift Up The Same Sweet Faces, Yet They Never Weary Us. When It Rains, It Rains As It Always Has. Even So Would The Same Tasks Which Fill Our Daily Lives Put On New Meanings If We Wrought Them In The Spirit Of Renewal From Within--a Spirit Of Growth And Beauty.

Certainly It Is One Of Our Sweetest Experiences That When We Are Touched By Some Noble Affection Or Pure Joy, We Remember The Dead Most Tenderly, And Feel More Powerfully Drawn To Them.

I Could Never Stay Long Enough On The Shore; The Tang Of The Untainted, Fresh, And Free Sea Air Was Like A Cool, Quieting Thought.

With Every Friend I Love Who Has Been Taken Into The Brown Bosom Of The Earth A Part Of Me Has Been Buried There; But Their Contribution To My Being Of Happiness, Strength And Understanding Remains To Sustain Me In An Altered World.

Security Is Mostly A Superstition. It Does Not Exist In Nature.