The Career Of Flowers Differs From Ours

Forever Is Composed Of Nows— 'tis Not A Different Time— Except For Infiniteness— And Latitude Of Home

Remorse Is Memory Awake.

Love Is Like The Wild Rose-briar; Friendship Like The Holly-tree. The Holly Is Dark When The Rose-briar Blooms, But Which Will Bloom Most Constantly? The Wild Rose-briar Is Sweet In Spring ,its Summer Blossoms Scent The Air; Yet Wait Till Winter Comes Again, And Who Will Call The Wild-briar Fair? Then, Scorn The Silly Rose-wreath Now, And Deck Thee With Holly's Sheen, That, When December Blights Thy Brow, He Still May Leave Thy Garland Green.

November Always Seemed To Me The Norway Of The Year.

Celebrity Is The Chastisement Of Merit And The Punishment Of Talent.