The World Is God's World, After All.

[the] Great Fairy Science, Who Is Likely To Be Queen Of All The Fairies For Many A Year To Come, Can Only Do You Good, And Never Do You Harm.

You Are Literally Filled With The Fruit Of Your Own Devices, With Rats And Mice And Such Small Deer, Paramecia, And Entomostraceæ, And Kicking Things With Horrid Names, Which You See In Microscopes At The Polytechnic, And Rush Home And Call For Brandy-without The Water-stone, And Gravel, And Dyspepsia, And Fragments Of Your Own Muscular Tissue Tinged With Your Own Bile.

Music. – There Is Something Very Wonderful In Music. Words Are Wonderful Enough: But Music Is Even More Wonderful. It Speaks Not To Our Thoughts As Words Do: It Speaks Straight To Our Hearts And Spirits, To The Very Core And Root Of Our Souls. Music Soothes Us, Stirs Us Up; It Puts Noble Feelings Into Us; It Melts Us To Tears, We Know Not How: – It Is A Language By Itself, Just As Perfect, In Its Way, As Speech, As Words; Just As Divine, Just As Blessed.

Depend Upon It, A Man Never Experiences Such Pleasure Or Grief After Fourteen Years As He Does Before, Unless In Some Cases, In His First Lovemaking, When The Sensation Is New To Him

Every Winter, When The Great Sun Has Turned His Face Away, The Earth Goes Down Into A Vale Of Grief, And Fasts, And Weeps, And Shrouds Herself In Sables, Leaving Her Wedding-garlands To Decay- Then Leaps In Spring To His Returning Kisses.