Silence Is The Best Response

That Headlong Ivy! Not A Leaf Will Grow But Thinking Of A Wreath, . . . I Like Such Ivy; Bold To Leap A Height 'twas Strong To Climb! As Good To Grow On Graves As Twist About A Thyrsus; Pretty Too (and That's Not Ill) When Twisted Round A Comb.

God Only, Who Made Us Rich, Can Make Us Poor.

Earth May Embitter, Not Remove, The Love Divinely Given; And E'en That Mortal Grief Shall Prove The Immortality Of Love, And Lead Us Nearer Heaven.

You May Write Twenty Lines One Day--or Even Three Like Euripides In Three Days--and A Hundred Lines In One More Day--and Yet On The Hundred, May Have Been Expended As Much Good Work, As On The Twenty And The Three.

Whatever's Lost, It First Was Won.