Most Brilliant Star Upon The Crest Of

I Go Into My Library And All History Unrolls Before Me.

In The Entire Circle Of The Year There Are No Days So Delightful As Those Of A Fine October, When The Trees Are Bare To The Mild Heavens, And The Red Leaves Bestrew The Road, And You Can Feel The Breath Of Winter, Morning And Evening - No Days So Calm, So Tenderly Solemn, And With Such A Reverent Meekness In The Air.

If We Were To Live Here Always, With No Other Care Than How To Feed, Clothe, And House Ourselves, Life Would Be A Very Sorry Business. It Is Immeasurably Heightened By The Solemnity Of Death.

Trees Are Your Best Antiques

I Have Learned To Prize The Quiet, Lightning Deed, Not The Applauding Thunder At Its Heels That Men Call Fame.