We Don't Grow Old. When We Cease

He Who Travels In Search Of Something Which He Has Not Got, Travels Away From Himself And Grows Old Even In Youth Among Old Things.

Today Is A King In Disguise.

Yet America Is A Poem In Our Eyes; Its Ample Geography Dazzles The Imagination, And It Will Not Wait Long For Metres.

He Is A Good Man Who Can Receive A Gift Well.

Many Eyes Go Through The Meadow, But Few See The Flowers In It