Truth Is The First Of Jewels.

But The Golden-rod Is One Of The Fairy, Magical Flowers; It Grows Not Up To Seek Human Love Amid The Light Of Day, But To Mark To The Discerning What Wealth Lies Hid In The Secret Caves Of Earth.

The Mind Is Not, I Know, A Highway, But A Temple, And Its Doors Should Not Be Carelessly Left Open.

Two Persons Love In One Another The Future Good Which They Aid One Another To Unfold.

We Would Have Every Arbitrary Barrier Thrown Down. We Would Have Every Path Laid Open To Woman As Freely As To Man.

I Stand In The Sunny Noon Of Life. Objects No Longer Glitter In The Dews Of Morning, Neither Are Yet Softened By The Shadows Of Evening.