The Beautiful Attracts The Beautiful.

Affection, Like Melancholy, Magnifies Trifles.

It Flows Through Old Hushed Egypt And Its Sands, Like Some Grave Mighty Thought Threading A Dream, And Times And Things, As In That Vision, Seem Keeping Along It Their Eternal Stands.

Fail Not To Call To Mind, In The Course Of The Twenty-fifth Of This Month, That The Divinest Heart That Ever Walked The Earth Was Born On That Day; And Then Smile And Enjoy Yourselves For The Rest Of It; For Mirth Is Also Of Heaven's Making.

Christmas Is The Glorious Time Of Great Too-much.

Green Little Vaulter, In The Sunny Grass, Catching Your Heart Up At The Feel Of June, Sole Noise That's Heard Amidst The Lazy Noon, When Ev'n The Bees Lag At The Summoning Brass.