The Soul...is Audible, Not Visible.

'tis Always Morning Somewhere, And Abovethe Awakening Continents, From Shore To Shore,somewhere The Birds Are Singing Evermore.

A Boy's Will Is The Wind's Will, And The Thought's Of Youth Are Long, Long Thoughhts

For 'tis Sweet To Stammer One Letter Of The Eternal's Language; - On Earth It Is Called Forgiveness!

Tell Me Not, In Mournful Numbers, Life Is But An Empty Dream!

In Youth All Doors Open Outward; In Old Age All Open Inward.