This Garden Has A Soul,

Traveling In The Company Of Those We Love Is Home In Motion.

Those Who Have Lost An Infant Are Never, As It Were, Without An Infant Child. Their Other Children Grow Up To Manhood And Womanhood, And Suffer All The Changes Of Mortality; But This One Alone Is Rendered An Immortal Child; For Death Has Arrested It With His Kindly Harshness, And Blessed It Into An Eternal Image Of Youth And Innocence.

It Is A Delicious Moment, Certainly, That Of Being Well Nestled In Bed, And Feeling That You Shall Drop Gently To Sleep. The Good Is To Come, Not Past; The Limbs Have Just Been Tired Enough To Render The Remaining In One Posture Delightful; The Labour Of The Day Is Gone

Your Second-hand Bookseller Is Second To None In The Worth Of The Treasures He Dispenses.

I Loved My Friend For His Gentleness, His Candor, His Good Repute, His Freedom Even From My Own Livelier Manner, His Calm And Reasonable Kindness. It Was Not Any Particular Talent That Attracted Me To Him, Or I Anything Striking Whatsoever. I Should Say In One Word, It Was His Goodness.