I . . . Am Small, Like

Had We Less To Say To Those We Love, Perhaps We Should Say It Oftener.

When He Tells Us About His Father, We Distrust Him. When He Shows Us His Home, We Turn Away, But When He Confides To Us That He Is Acquainted With Grief, We Listen, For That Also Is An Acquaintance Of Our Own.

Common Sense Is Almost As Omniscient As God.

The Soul Unto Itself Is An Imperial Friend, - Or The Most Agonizing Spy - An Enemy - Could Send -

Wonder Is Not Precisely Knowing.