How Glorious It Is - And Also

The Soft Contralto Notes Of A Woman's Voice Are Born In The Immediate Region Of The Heart.

It Was One Of Those Somber Evenings When The Sighing Of The Wind Resembles The Moans Of A Dying Man; A Storm Was Brewing, And Between The Splashes Of Rain On The Windows There Was The Silence Of Death. All Nature Suffers In Such Moments; The Trees Writhe In Pain And Twist Their Heads; The Birds Of The Fields Cower Under The Bushes; The Streets Of Cities Are Deserted.

The Mouth Keeps Silent To Hear The Heart Speak.

Each Memorable Verse Of A True Poet Has Two Or Three Times The Written Content.

The Costliest Women Are The Ones Who Cost Nothing.