Death Is The Ugly Fact Which Nature

To Bring The Best Human Qualities To Anything Like Perfection, To Fill Them With The Sweet Juices Of Courtesy And Charity, Prosperity, Or, At All Events, A Moderate Amount Of It, Is Required,--just As Sunshine Is Needed For The Ripening Of Peaches And Apricots.

The Greatness Of An Artist Or A Writer Does Not Depend On What He Has In Common With Other Artists And Writers, But On What He Has Peculiar To Himself.

A Bottomless Pit Of Violence, A Tower Of Babel Where All Are Speakers And No Hearers.

My Garden, With Its Silence And Pulses Of Fragrance That Come And Go On The Airy Undulations, Affects Me Like Sweet Music. Care Stops At The Gates, And Gazes At Me Wistfully Through The Bars.

There Is No Ghost So Difficult To Lay As The Ghost Of An Injury.