The Heart, Like The Mind, Has A

It Is Difficult To Know At What Moment Love Begins; It Is Less Difficult To Know That It Has Begun.

Thinking The Deed, And Not The Creed, Would Help Us In Our Utmost Need.

Art Is Long, And Time Is Fleeting, And Our Hearts, Though Stout And Brave, Still, Like Muffled Drums, Are Beating Funeral Marches To The Grave.

Well I Know The Secret Places, And The Nests In Hedge And Tree; At What Doors Are Friendly Faces, In What Hearts Are Thoughts Of Me.

Many Readers Judge Of The Power Of A Book By The Shock It Gives Their Feelings.