Who Would Endure Life If It Were

It's The Fools That Make All The Trouble In The World, Not The Wicked.

We Should Regret Our Mistakes And Learn From Them, But Never Carry Them Forward Into The Future With Us.

It Was November--the Month Of Crimson Sunsets, Parting Birds, Deep, Sad Hymns Of The Sea, Passionate Wind-songs In The Pines. Anne Roamed Through The Pineland Alleys In The Park And, As She Said, Let That Great Sweeping Wind Blow The Fogs Out Of Her Soul.

Words Aren't Made — They Grow,' Said Anne.

A Favor Is Never So Long-lived As A Grudge.