How Is It The Great Pieces Of

Out Of The Fragrant Heart Of Bloom, The Bobolinks Are Singing; Out Of The Fragrant Heart Of Bloom The Apple-tree Whispers To The Room, "why Art Thou But A Nest Of Gloom While The Bobolinks Are Singing?

How Is It The Great Pieces Of Good Luck Fall To Us?

I Wonder Why We Hate The Past So.

Each One Of Us Must Suffer Long To Himself Before He Can Learn That He Is But One In A Great Community Of Wretchedness Which Has Been Pitilessly Repeating Itself From The Foundation Of The World.

The Conqueror Is Regarded With Awe; The Wise Man Commands Our Respect; But It Is Only The Benevolent Man That Wins Our Affection.