No One Can Be Free Who Has

Cakes Have Such A Terrible Habit Of Turning Out Bad Just When You Especially Want Them To Be Good.

I'm Afraid To Speak Or Move For Fear That All This Wonderful Beauty Will Just Vanish... Like A Broken Silence.

The Woods Are Never Solitary — They Are Full Of Whispering, Beckoning, Friendly Life. But The Sea Is A Mighty Soul, Forever Moaning Of Some Great, Unshareable Sorrow, Which Shuts It Up Into Itself For All Eternity. We Can Never Pierce Its Infinite Mystery — We May Only Wander, Awed And Spellbound, On The Outer Fringe Of It. The Woods Call To Us With A Hundred Voices, But The Sea Has One Only — A Mighty Voice.

Night Is Beautiful When You Are Happy--comforting When You Are In Grief--terrible When You Are Lonely And Unhappy.

I Suppose It Was A Romantic Was To Perish... For A Mouse