If The World 's A Vale Of

Everything In Nature Has Its Own Intrinsic Charm, As The Work Of Its Creator's Hand; But The Chief Beauty Of The Whole Lies In Its Suggested Relations To Humanity. Things Announce And Wait For Persons. The House Would Not Have Been Thus Beautifully Built And Furnished, Except For An Expected Tenant.

A Friend Is A Beloved Mystery; Dearest Always Because He Is Not Ourself, And Has Something In Him Which It Is Impossible For Us To Fathom. If It Were Not So, Friendship Would Lose Its Chief Zest.

The Children With The Streamlets Sing, When April Stops At Last Her Weeping; And Every Happy Growing Thing Laughs Like A Babe Just Roused From Sleeping.

The Whole World Of Thought Lay Unexplored Before Me, - A World Of Which I Had Already Caught Large And Tempting Glimpses.

A Journal Of The 'subjective' Kind I Have Always Thought Foolish, As Nurturing A Morbid Self -consciousness In The Writer; And Yet, Alone So Much As I Am, It Is Well To Have Some Sort Of A Ventilator From The Interior.