The Natural Alone Is Permanent.

The Leaves Of Memory Seemed To Make A Mournful Rustling In The Dark

To Say The Least, A Town Life Makes One More Tolerant And Liberal In One's Judgment Of Others.

Fear Is The Virtue Of Slaves; But The Heart That Loveth Is Willing.

Every Man Has His Secret Sorrows Which The World Knows Not; And Often Times We Call A Man Cold When He Is Only Sad.

At First Laying Down, As A Fact Fundamental, That Nothing With God Can Be Accidental.