Every Day Travels Toward Death; The Last

My Heart Like Moon-charmed Waters, All Unrest.

Death Is The Ugly Fact Which Nature Has To Hide, And She Hides It Well.

Stirling, Like A Huge Brooch, Clasps Highlands And Lowlands Together.

If A Man Is Worth Knowing At All, He Is Worth Knowing Well.

God Has Thickly Strewn Infinity With Grandeur.