The Most Tangible Of All Visible Mysteries

The Fish Is Swift, Small-needing, Vague Yet Clear, A Cold, Sweet, Silver Life, Wrapped In Round Waves.

Those Who Have Lost An Infant Are Never, As It Were, Without An Infant Child. Their Other Children Grow Up To Manhood And Womanhood, And Suffer All The Changes Of Mortality; But This One Alone Is Rendered An Immortal Child; For Death Has Arrested It With His Kindly Harshness, And Blessed It Into An Eternal Image Of Youth And Innocence.

Christmas Is The Glorious Time Of Great Too-much.

Write Me As One Who Loves His Fellow Men.

May Exalting And Humanizing Thoughts Forever Accompany Me, Making Me Confident Without Pride, And Modest Without Servility.