Ambition's Cradle Oftenest Is Its Grave

So Nature Deals With Us, And Takes Away Our Playthings One By One, And By The Hand Leads Us To Rest So Gently, That We Go, Scarce Knowing If We Wish To Go Or Stay, Being Too Full Of Sleep To Understand How Far The Unknown Transcends The What We Know.

The Prayer Of Ajax Was For Light.

Time Has Laid His Hand Upon My Heart, Gently, Not Smiting It, But As A Harper Lays His Open Palm Upon His Harp, To Deaden Its Vibrations.

The Happy Should Not Insist Too Much Upon Their Happiness In The Presence Of The Unhappy.

A Boy's Will Is The Wind's Will, And The Thought's Of Youth Are Long, Long Thoughhts