The Land Is Dearer For The Sea,

To Different Minds, Poetry May Present Different Phases. To Me, The Reverent Faith Of The People I Lived Among, And Their Faithful Everyday Living, Was Poetry; Blossoms And Trees And Blue Shies Were Poetry. God Himself Was Poetry.

Like A Plant That Starts Up In Showers And Sunshine And Does Not Know Which Has Best Helped It To Grow, It Is Difficult To Say Whether The Hard Things Or The Pleasant Things Did Me The Most Good.

A Man May Make A Misanthrope Of Himself, But He Is Never One By Nature.

Every True Friend Is A Glimpse Of God.

When April Steps Aside For May, Like Diamonds All The Rain-drops Glisten; Fresh Violets Open Every Day: To Some New Bird Each Hour We Listen.