I Stay A Little Longer, As One

No Action, Whether Foul Or Fair, Is Ever Done, But It Leaves Somewhere A Record, Written By Fingers Ghostly, As A Blessing Or A Curse, And Mostly In The Greater Weakness Or Greater Strength Of The Acts Which Follow It.

Death Is The Chillness That Precedes The Dawn; We Shudder For A Moment, Then Awake In The Broad Sunshine Of The Other Life.

Love Is Sunshine, Hate Is Shadow, Life Is Checkered Shade And Sunshine.

The Air Is Full Of Farewells To The Dying. And Mournings For The Dead.

Let Him Not Boast Who Puts His Armor On As He Who Puts It Off, The Battle Done.