There Are Favorable Hours For Reading A

Some Critics Are Like Chimney-sweepers; They Put Out The Fire Below, And Frighten The Swallows From Their Nests Above; They Scrape A Long Time In The Chimney, Cover Themselves With Soot, And Bring Nothing Away But A Bag Of Cinders, And Then Sing From The Top Of The House As If They Had Built It.

For His Heart Was In His Work, And The Heart Giveth Grace Unto Every Art.

The Soul...is Audible, Not Visible.

Make Not Thyself The Judge Of Any Man.

The Morning Pouring Everywhere, Its Golden Glory On The Air.