With What Cracked Pitchers Go We To

The Devil's Most Devilish When Respectable.

Thank God For Grace, Ye Who Weep Only! If, As Some Have Done, Ye Grope Tear-blinded In A Desert Place And Touch But Tombs,--look Up! Those Tears Will Run Soon In Long Rivers Down The Lifted Face, And Leave The Vision Clear For Stars And Sun.

No Man Can Be Called Friendless Who Has God And The Companionship Of Good Books.

I Would Build A Cloudy House For My Thoughts To Live In; When For Earth Too Fancy-loose And Too Low For Heaven! Hush! I Talk My Dream Aloud - I Build It Bright To See, - I Build It On The Moonlit Cloud, To Which I Looked With Thee.

Of Writing Many Books There Is No End.