Trusting No Man As His Friend, He

Sunlight Is Like The Breath Of Life To The Pomp Of Autumn.

If Human Love Hath Power To Penetrate The Veil--and Hath It Not?--then There Are Yet Living Here A Few Who Have The Blessedness Of Knowing That An Angel Loves Them.

A Bodily Disease Which We Look Upon As Whole And Entire Within Itself, May After All, Be But A Symptom Of Some Ailment In The Spiritual Part.

Who Can Tell Where Happiness May Come, Or Where, Though An Expected Guest, It May Never Show Its Face?

The Love Of Science To Rival The Love Of Woman, In Its Depth And Absorbing Energy.