The Fireflies O'er The Meadow In Pulses

Worshippers Of Light Ancestral Make The Present Light A Crime.

Nature Fits All Her Children With Something To Do, He Who Would Write And Can't Write, Can Surely Review.

Who Speaks The Truth Stabs Falsehood To The Heart.

No Man, I Suspect, Ever Lived Long In The Country Without Being Bitten By These Meteorological Ambitions. He Likes To Be Hotter And Colder, To Have Been More Deeply Snowed Up, To Have More Trees And Larger Blown Down Than His Neighbors.

Such Power There Is In Clear-eyed Self-restraint.