The Deepest Truth Blooms Only From The

The Devil Take These People And Their Language! They Take A Dozen Monosyllabic Words In Their Jaws, Chew Them, Crunch Them And Spit Them Out Again, And Call That Speaking. Fortunately They Are By Nature Fairly Silent, And Although They Gaze At Us Open-mouthed, They Spare Us Long Conversations.

Sweet May Hath Come To Love Us, Flowers, Trees, Their Blossoms Don; And Through The Blue Heavens Above Us The Very Clouds Move On.

Thought Is Invisible Nature.

God Will Forgive Me. It's His Job.

Round My Cradle Shimmered The Last Moonbeams Of The Eighteenth Century And The First Morning Rays Of The Nineteenth.