Hope . . . Never Stops At

The Pedigree Of Honey Does Not Concern The Bee; A Clover, Any Time, To Him Is Aristocracy.

I Would Paint A Portrait Which Would Bring The Tears, Had I Canvas For It, And The Scene Should Be -- Solitude, And The Figures -- Solitude -- And The Lights And Shades, Each A Solitude.

If I Can Stop One Heart From Breaking, I Shall Not Live In Vain.

The Truth I Do Not Dare To Know I Muffle With A Jest.

This World Is Not Conclusion. A Sequel Stands Beyond- Invisible, As Music- But Positive, As Sound.