Books Are A Finer World Within The

Every Day Travels Toward Death; The Last Only Arrives At It.

A Tender Sadness Drops Upon My Soul, Like The Soft Twilight Dropping On The World.

Every Man's Road In Life Is Marked By The Grave Of His Personal Likings.

In My Garden, Care Stops At The Gate And Gazes At Me Wistfully Through The Bars.

Everything Is Sweetened By Risk.