If You Wish To Preserve Your Secret,

Every Man's Road In Life Is Marked By The Grave Of His Personal Likings.

Seated In My Library At Night, And Looking On The Silent Faces Of My Books, I Am Occasionally Visited By A Strange Sense Of The Supernatural.

Happiness Never Lays Its Finger On Its Pulse. If We Attempt To Steal A Glimpse Of Its Features It Disappears.

The Spot Of Ground On Which A Man Has Stood Is Forever Interesting To Him.

In My Garden, Care Stops At The Gate And Gazes At Me Wistfully Through The Bars.