Summer Has Set In With

The Man Hath Penance Done, And Penance More Will Do.

No Mind Is Thoroughly Well Organized That Is Deficient In A Sense Of Humor.

I Have Found Words [in The Bible] For My Inmost Thoughts, Songs For My Joy, Utterances For My Hidden Griefs, And Pleadings For My Shame And My Feebleness.

All Nature Seems At Work. Slugs Leave Their Lair The Bees Are Stirring, Birds Are On The Wing, And Winter Slumbering In The Open Air, Wears On His Smiling Face A Dream Of Spring.

Poor Little Foal Of An Oppressed Race! I Love The Languid Patience Of Thy Face.