Christmas Is The Day That Holds All

Men And Women Make Their Own Beauty Or Their Own Ugliness. Sir Edward Bulwer Lytton Speaks In One Of His Novels Of A Man "who Was Uglier Than He Had Any Business To Be;" And, If We Could But Read It, Every Human Being Carries His Life In His Face, And Is Good-looking Or The Reverse As That Life Has Been Good Or Evil. On Our Features The Fine Chisels Of Thought And Emotion Are Eternally At Work.

Thoughts Must Come Naturally, Like Wild-flowers; They Cannot Be Forced In A Hot-bed, Even Although Aided By The Leaf-mould Of Your Past.

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

A Thought May Be Very Commendable As A Thought, But I Value It Chiefly As A Window Through Which I Can Obtain Insight On The Thinker.

A Man's Real Possession Is His Memory. In Nothing Else Is He Rich, In Nothing Else Is He Poor.