The Secret Of Happiness Is Something To

The Simplicity Of Winter Has A Deep Moral. The Return Of Nature, After Such A Career Of Splendor And Prodigality, To Habits So Simple And Austere, Is Not Lost Either Upon The Head Or The Heart. It Is The Philosopher Coming Back From The Banquet And The Wine To A Cup Of Water And A Crust Of Bread.

A Somebody Was Once A Nobody Who Wanted To And Did.

Serene, I Fold My Hands And Wait, Nor Care For Wind, Nor Tide, Nor Sea; I Rave No More 'gainst Time Or Fate, For Lo! My Own Shall Come To Me.

The Very Idea Of A Bird Is A Symbol And A Suggestion To The Poet. A Bird Seems To Be At The Top Of The Scale, So Vehement And Intense His Life. . . . The Beautiful Vagabonds, Endowed With Every Grace, Masters Of All Climes, And Knowing No Bounds - How Many Human Aspirations Are Realised In Their Free, Holiday-lives - And How Many Suggestions To The Poet In Their Flight And Song!

We've Been In A Period Of Relative Stability And Cooperation Since The End Of The Cold War Among The World's Major Powers, But That May Not Always Exist. And Certainly One Could Even Predict That There Will Be Periods Of Hostility Or Tension Ahead.