And When A Woman's Will Is As

Let My Body Dwell In Poverty, And My Hands Be As The Hands Of The Toiler; But Let My Soul Be As A Temple Of Remembrance Where The Treasures Of Knowledge Enter And The Inner Sanctuary Is Hope.

What A Different Result One Gets By Changing The Metaphor!

The Tread Of Coming Footsteps Cheats The Midnight Watcher Who Holds Her Heart And Waits To Hear Them Pause, And Hears Them Never Pause, But Pass And Die.

Time, Like Money, Is Measured By Our Needs.

The Beauty Of A Lovely Woman Is Like Music.