I Do Not Believe Anyone

Let Us Then Be Up And Doing, With A Heart For Any Fate, Still Achieving, Still Pursuing, Learn To Labor And To Wait.

That Tree Is Very Old, But I Never Saw Prettier Blossoms On It Than It Now Bears. That Tree Grows New Wood Each Year. Like That Apple Tree, I Try To Grow A New Little Wood Each Year.

Some Feelings Are Quite Untranslatable; No Language Has Yet Been Found For Them. They Gleam Upon Us Beautifully Through The Dim Twilight Of Fancy, And Yet When We Bring Them Close To Us, And Hold Them Up To The Light Of Reason, Lose Their Beauty All At Once, As Glow Worms Which Gleam With Such A Spiritual Light In The Shadows Of Evening, When Brought In Where The Candles Are Lighted, Are Found To Be Only Worms Like So Many Others.

Tell Me Not, In Mournful Numbers, Life Is But An Empty Dream!

Safe From Temptation, Safe From Sin's Pollution, She Lives Whom We Call Dead.