Nothing Can Make Injustice Just But Mercy.

There Is Little Much Beyond The Grave, But The Strong Are Saying Nothing Until They See.

A Poem Begins As A Lump In The Throat, A Sense Of Wrong, A Homesickness, A Lovesickness.

Loyalty Is That For The Lack Of Which Your Gang Will Shoot You Without Benefit Of Trial By Jury.

I Always Entertain Great Hopes.

The Sun Was Warm But The Wind Was Chill. You Know How It Is With An April Day.