Ah, The Souls Of Those

The Human Voice Is The Organ Of The Soul.

Alas! It Is Not Till Time, With Reckless Hand, Has Torn Out Half The Leaves From The Book Of Human Life To Light The Fires Of Passion With From Day To Day, That Man Begins To See That The Leaves Which Remain Are Few In Number.

The Star Of The Unconquered Will, He Rises In My Breast, Serene, And Resolute, And Still, And Calm, And Self-possessed.

Silence And Solitude, The Soul's Best Friends.

A Torn Jacket Is Soon Mended; But Hard Words Bruise The Heart Of A Child.