Those Who Have Lost An Infant Are

The Last Excessive Feelings Of Delight Are Always Grave.

Central Depth Of Purple, Leaves More Bright Than Rose, Who Shall Tell What Brightest Thought Out Of Darkness Grows? Who, Through What Funereal Pain, Souls To Love And Peace Attain? - Leigh Hunt (james Henry Leigh Hunt

Those Who Have Lost An Infant Are Never, As It Were, Without An Infant Child. Their Other Children Grow Up To Manhood And Womanhood, And Suffer All The Changes Of Mortality; But This One Alone Is Rendered An Immortal Child; For Death Has Arrested It With His Kindly Harshness, And Blessed It Into An Eternal Image Of Youth And Innocence.

Traveling In The Company Of Those We Love Is Home In Motion.

Nature, At All Events, Humanly Speaking, Is Manifestly Very Fond Of Color; For She Has Made Nothing Without It. Her Skies Are Blue; Her Fields, Green; Her Waters Vary With Her Skies; Her Animals, Vegetables, Minerals, Are All Colored. She Paints A Great Any Of Them In Apparently Superfluous Hues, As If To Show The Dullest Eye How She Loves Color.