My Life Is One Demd Horrid Grind.

The Clouds Were Flying Fast, The Wind Was Coming Up In Gusts, Banging Some Neighboring Shutters That Had Broken Loose, Twirling The Rusty Chimney-cowls And Weathercocks, And Rushing Round And Round A Confined Adjacent Churchyard As If It Had A Mind To Blow The Dead Citizens Out Of Their Graves. The Low Thunder, Muttering In All Quarters Of The Sky At Once, Seemed To Threaten Vengeance For This Attempted Desecration, And To Mutter, "let Them Rest! Let Them Rest!

Cows Are My Passion. What I Have Ever Sighed For Has Been To Retreat To A Swiss Farm, And Live Entirely Surrounded By Cows - And China.

Vices Are Sometimes Only Virtues Carried To Excess!

On The Motionless Branches Of Some Trees, Autumn Berries Hung Like Clusters Of Coral Beads, As In Those Fabled Orchards Where The Fruits Were Jewels . . .

Nobody Near Me Here, But Rats, And They Are Fine Stealthy Secret Fellows.