The Pale Child, Eve, Leading Her Mother,

And In Any Case, To The Old Man, When The World Becomes Trite, The Triteness Arises Not So Much From A Cessation As From A Transference Of Interest. What Is Taken From This World Is Given To The Next. The Glory Is In The East In The Morning, It Is In The West In The Afternoon, And When It Is Dark The Splendour Is Irradiating The Realm Of The Under-world. He Would Only Follow.

In My Garden I Spend My Days; In My Library I Spend My Nights.

A Brave Soul Is A Thing Which All Things Serve.

How Beautiful The Yesterday That Stood Over Me Like A Rainbow! I Am Alone, The Past Is Past. I See The Future Stretch All Dark And Barren As A Rainy Sea.

Winter Does Not Work Only On A Broad Scale; He Is Careful In Trifles.