We Overstate The Ills Of Life, And

What Frightens Me Is That Men Are Content With What Is Not Life At All.

Folded Eyes See Brighter Colors Than The Open Ever Do.

The Soul's Rialto Hath Its Merchandise, I Barter For Curl Upon That Mart.

Very Whitely Still The Lilies Of Our Lives May Reassure Their Blossoms From Their Roots, Accessible Alone To Heavenly Dews That Drop Not Fewer; Growing Straight Out Of Man's Reach, On The Hill. God Only, Who Made Us Rich, Can Make Us Poor.

It Was Not The Apple On The Tree But The Pair On The Ground That Caused The Trouble In The Garden Of Eden.