There Is Nothing So Unpardonable As To

Believeth With The Life, The Pain Shall Stop.

Truth Never Hurts The Teller.

Autumn Wins You Best By This Its Mute Appeal To Sympathy For Its Decay.

Into The Street The Piper Stepped, Smiling First A Little Smile As If He Knew What Magic Slept In His Quiet Pipe The While. And The Piper Advanced And The Children Followed.

It Was Roses, Roses, All The Way, With Myrtle Mixed In My Path Like Mad.