Nature Is Forever Arriving And Forever Departing,

Though Actually The Work Of Man's Hands - Or, More Properly Speaking, The Work Of His Travelling Feet, - Roads Have Long Since Come To Seem So Much A Part Of Nature That We Have Grown To Think Of Them As A Feature Of The Landscape No Less Natural Than Rocks And Trees.

There Is Something Mean In Human Nature That Prefers To Think Evil, That Gives A Willing Ear And A Ready Welcome To Calumny, A Sort Of Jealousy Of Goodness And Greatness And Things Of Good Report.

Races And Nations Are Thus Ever Ready To Believe The Worst Of One Another.

Nature Is Forever Arriving And Forever Departing, Forever Approaching, Forever Vanishing; But In Her Vanishings There Seems To Be Ever The Waving Of A Hand, In All Her Partings A Promise Of Meetings Farther Along The Road.

All Wines Are By Their Very Nature Full Of Reminiscence, The Golden Tears And Red Blood Of Summers That Are Gone.