My Tears Must Stop, For

To Attempt To Advise Conceited People Is Like Whistling Against The Wind.

Alas For The Rarity Of Christian Charity Under The Sun!

I Resolved That, Like The Sun, As Long As My Day Lasted, I Would Look On The Bright Side Of Everything.

I Saw Old Autumn In The Misty Morn Stand Shadowless Like Silence, Listening To Silence.

How Bravely Autumn Paints Upon The Sky The Gorgeous Fame Of Summer Which Is Fled!