Good Night, Belovedest. Your Sleep Will Be

If It's In You To Climb You Must -- There Are Those Who Must Lift Their Eyes To The Hills -- They Can't Breathe Properly In The Valleys.

I Can't Help Flying Up On The Wings Of Anticipation. It's As Glorious As Soaring Through A Sunset... Almost Pays For The Thud.

Perhaps, After All, Romance Did Not Come Into One’s Life With Pomp And Blare, Like A Gay Knight Riding Down; Perhaps It Crept To One’s Side Like An Old Friend Through Quiet Ways; Perhaps It Revealed Itself In Seeming Prose, Until Some Sudden Shaft Of Illumination Flung Athwart Its Pages Betrayed The Rhythm And The Music, Perhaps . . . Perhaps . . . Love Unfolded Naturally Out Of A Beautiful Friendship, As A Golden-hearted Rose Slipping From Its Green Sheath.

I Am Simply A 'book Drunkard.' Books Have The Same Irresistible Temptation For Me That Liquor Has For Its Devotee. I Cannot Withstand Them.

Trees Have As Much Individuality As Human Beings. Not Even Two Spruces Are Alike. There Is Always Some Kink Or Curve Or Bend Of Bough To Single Each One Out From Its Fellows.