Love Is But The Discovery Of Ourselves

Everything Is Sweetened By Risk.

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

Trees Are Your Best Antiques

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

Looking Forward Into An Empty Year Strikes One With A Certain Awe, Because One Finds Therein No Recognition. The Years Behind Have A Friendly Aspect, And They Are Warmed By The Fires We Have Kindled, And All Their Echoes Are The Echoes Of Our Own Voices.