The Heresy Of One Age Becomes The

Death Is No More Than Passing From One Room Into Another.

The Heresy Of One Age Becomes The Orthodoxy Of The Next.

This World Is So Full Of Care And Sorrow That It Is A Gracious Debt We Owe To One Another To Discover The Bright Crystals Of Delight Hidden In Somber Circumstances And Irksome Tasks.

My Darkness Has Been Filled With The Light Of Intelligence, And Behold, The Outer Day-lit World Was Stumbling And Groping In Social Blindness.

Long Before I Learned To Do A Sum In Arithmetic Or Describe The Shape Of The Earth, Miss Sullivan Had Taught Me To Find Beauty In The Fragrant Woods, In Every Blade Of Grass, And In The Curves And Dimples Of My Baby Sister's Hand.