I Wish Always To Be Quoted As

It Is The Way With Half The Truth Amidst Which We Live, That It Only Haunts Us And Makes Dull Pulsations That Are Never Born Into Sound.

Our Dead Are Never Dead To Us Until We Have Forgotten Them: They Can Be Injured By Us, They Can Be Wounded; They Know All Our Penitence, All Our Aching Sense That Their Place Is Empty, All The Kisses We Bestow On The Smallest Relic Of Their Presence.

Upon My Word, I Think The Truth Is The Hardest Missile One Can Be Pelted With.

There Are Various Orders Of Beauty, Causing Men To Make Fools Of Themselves In Various Styles.

It Is A Very Good Quality In A Man To Have A Trout-stream.