They Who Go Feel Not The Pain

I Hear The Wind Among The Trees Playing The Celestial Symphonies; I See The Branches Downward Bent, Like Keys Of Some Great Instrument.

We Judge Ourselves By What We Feel Capable Of Doing, While Others Judge Us By What We Have Already Done.

All Are Architects Of Fate, Working In These Walls Of Time; Some With Massive Deeds And Great, Some With Ornaments Of Rhyme.

Many Readers Judge Of The Power Of A Book By The Shock It Gives Their Feelings.

The Story, From Beginning To End, I Found Again In A Heart Of A Friend.