My Religion Of Life Is Always To

Darker Grows The Valley, More And More Forgetting: So Were It With Me If Forgetting Could Be Willed. Tell The Grassy Hollow That Holds The Bubbling Well-spring, Tell It To Forget The Source That Keeps It Filled.

She Whom I Love Is Hard To Catch And Conquer, Hard, But O The Glory Of The Winning Were She Won!

It Is The Devil's Masterstroke To Get Us To Accuse Him

We Never Know What's In Us Till We Stand By Ourselves.

A Witty Woman Is A Treasure; A Witty Beauty Is A Power.