I Shall Not Die Of A Cold.

That Is Happiness; To Be Dissolved Into Something Complete And Great.

Oh, This Is The Joy Of The Rose; That It Blows, And Goes.

Of Course Nebraska Is A Storehouse Of Literary Material. Everywhere Is A Storehouse Of Literary Material. If A True Artist Were Born In A Pigpen And Raised In A Sty, He Would Still Find Plenty Of Inspiration For His Work. The Only Need Is The Eye To See.

The Soul Cannot Be Humbled By Fasts And Prayer; It Must Be Broken By Mortal Sin To Experience Forgiveness Of Sin And Rise To A State Of Grace. Otherwise, Religion Is Nothing But Dead Logic.

She Had Certain Thoughts Which Were Like Companions, Ideas Which Were Like Older And Wiser Friends.