What Else Remains For Me? Youth, Hope

The Twilight That Surrounds The Border-land Of Old Romance.

Time Rides With The Old At A Great Pace. As Travellers On Swift Steeds See The Near Landscape Fly And Flow Behind Them, While The Remoter Fields And Dim Horizons Go With Them, And Seem Wheeling Round To Meet Them, So In Old Age Things Near Us Slip Away, And Distant Things Go With Us.

To Say The Least, A Town Life Makes One More Tolerant And Liberal In One's Judgment Of Others.

The Grave Itself Is But A Covered Bridge, Leading From Light To Light, Through A Brief Darkness!

White Swan Of Cities Slumbering In Thy Nest . . . White Phantom City, Whose Untrodden Streets Are Rivers, And Whose Pavements Are The Shifting Shadows Of The Palaces And Strips Of Sky.