Who Longest Waits Most Surely Wins.

Next Time!' In What Calendar Are Kept The Records Of Those Next Times Which Never Come?

I Shall Be Found With 'indians' Engraved On My Brain When I Am Dead. A Fire Has Been Kindled Within Me, Which Will Never Go Out.

Bee To The Blossom, Moth To The Flame; Each To His Passion; What's In A Name?

The New Is Older Than The Old; And Newest Friend Is Oldest Friend In This: That, Waiting Him, We Longest Grieved To Miss One Thing We Sought.

If I Could Write A Story That Would Do For The Indian One-hundredth Part What 'uncle Tom's Cabin' Did For The Negro, I Would Be Thankful The Rest Of My Life.