God Has Thickly Strewn Infinity With Grandeur.

I Go Into My Library, And All History Unrolls Before Me. I Breathe The Morning Air Of The World While The Scent Of Eden's Roses Yet Lingered In It, While It Vibrated Only To The World's First Brood Of Nightingales, And To The Laugh Of Eve. I See The Pyramids Building; I Hear The Shoutings Of The Armies Of Alexander.

Nature Never Quite Goes Along With Us. She Is Somber At Weddings, Sunny At Funerals, And She Frowns On Ninety-nine Out Of A Hundred Picnics.

Good-humor And, Generosity Carry Day With The Popular Heart All The World Over.

Everything Is Sweetened By Risk.

Style, After All, Rather Than Thought, Is The Immortal Thing In Literature.