O Lovely Eyes Of Azure, Clear As

The Day Is Dark And Cold And Dreary; It Rains, And The Wind Is Never Weary.

Art Is The Child Of Nature; Yes, Her Darling Child, In Whom We Trace The Features Of The Mother's Face, Her Aspect And Her Attitude, All Her Majestic Loveliness Chastened And Softened And Subdued Into A More Attractive Grace, And With A Human Sense Imbued. He Is The Greatest Artist, Then, Whether Of Pencil Or Of Pen, Who Follows Nature.

There Are Moments In Life, When The Heart Is So Full Of Emotion That If By Chance It Be Shaken, Or Into Its Depths Like A Pebble Drops Some Careless Word, It Overflows, And Its Secret, Spilt On The Ground Like Water, Can Never Be Gathered Together.

It Was A High Counsel That I Once Heard Given To A Young Person, - Always Do What You Are Afraid To Do.

A Millstone And The Human Heart Are Driven Ever Round, If They Have Nothing Else To Grind, They Must Themselves Be Ground.