To Charm, To Strengthen, And

How Far The Gulf-stream Of Our Youth May Flow Into The Arctic Regions Of Our Lives, Where Little Else Than Life Itself Survives.

Music Is The Language Spoken By Angels.

The Spring Came Suddenly, Bursting Upon The World As A Child Bursts Into A Room, With A Laugh And A Shout And Hands Full Of Flowers.

No Literature Is Complete Until The Language It Was Written In Is Dead.

There Are Moments In Life, When The Heart Is So Full Of Emotion That If By Chance It Be Shaken, Or Into Its Depths Like A Pebble Drops Some Careless Word, It Overflows, And Its Secret, Spilt On The Ground Like Water, Can Never Be Gathered Together.