The Wars Come And Go In Blood

Is It Worth While To Observe That There Are No Venetian Blinds In Venice?

Out Of The Fragrant Heart Of Bloom, The Bobolinks Are Singing; Out Of The Fragrant Heart Of Bloom The Apple-tree Whispers To The Room, "why Art Thou But A Nest Of Gloom While The Bobolinks Are Singing?

Lord, For The Erring Thought Not Unto Evil Wrought: Lord, For The Wicked Will Betrayed, And Baffled Still: For The Heart From Itself Kept, Our Thanksgiving Accept. For Ignorant Hopes That Were Broken To Our Blind Prayer: For Pain, Death, Sorrow, Sent Unto Our Chastisement: For All Loss Of Seeming Good, Quicken Our Gratitude.

The Mortality Of All Inanimate Things Is Terrible To Me, But That Of Books Most Of All.

I Know, Indeed, Of Nothing More Subtly Satisfying And Cheering Than A Knowledge Of The Real Good Will And Appreciation Of Others. Such Happiness Does Not Come With Money, Nor Does It Flow From Fine Physical State. It Cannot Be Brought. But It Is The Keenest Joy, After All; And The Toiler's Truest And Best Reward.