The Road Was Frozen. The Village Lay

I Suppose Even A Woman's Hatred Is A Kind Of Love.

The True Joy Of A Moonlit Night Is Something We No Longer Understand. Only The Men Of Old, When There Were No Lights, Could Understand The True Joy Of A Moonlit Night.

Lunatics Have No Age. If We Were Crazy, You And I, We Might Be A Great Deal Younger.

Even If You Have The Wit To Look By Yourself In A Bush Away From The Other Children, There Are Not Many Bell Crickets In The World. Probably You Will Find A Girl Like A Grasshopper Whom You Think Is A Bell Cricket.and Finally, To Your Clouded, Wounded Heart, Even A True Bell Cricket Will Seem Like A Grasshopper. Should That Day Come, When It Seems To You That The World Is Only Full Of Grasshoppers, I Will Think It A Pity That You Have No Way To Remember Tonight's Play Of Light, When Your Name Was Written In Green By Your Beautiful Lantern On A Girl's Breast.

The Labor Into Which A Heart Has Poured Its Whole Love--where Will It Have Its Say, To Excite And Inspire, And When?