It Seems To Me Like

The Thing That Teases The Mind Over And Over For Years, And At Last Gets Itself Put Down Rightly On Paper - Whether Little Or Great, It Belongs To Literature.

What's Everybody's Business Is Nobody's Business.

Some Set More By Such Things As Come From A Distance, But I Rec'lect Mother Always Used To Maintain That Folks Was Meant To Be Doctored With The Stuff That Grew Right About 'em.

The Warm Sun Kissed The Earthto Consecrate Thy Birth,and From His Close Embracethy Radiant Facesprang Into Sight,a Blossoming Delight.

The Old Poets Little Knew What Comfort They Could Be To A Man.