There Are Glances Of Hatred That Stab,

Leisure Is Gone,--gone Where The Spinning-wheels Are Gone, And The Pack-horses, And The Slow Wagons, And The Peddlers, Who Brought Bargains To The Door On Sunny Afternoons.

Those Only Can Thoroughly Feel The Meaning Of Death Who Know What Is Perfect Love.

Conscience Is Harder Than Our Enemies, Knows More, Accuses With More Nicety.

May I Reach That Purest Heaven - Be To Other Souls The Cup Of Strength In Some Great Agony; Enkindle Generous Ardor, Feed Pure Love, Beget The Smiles That Have No Cruelty. Be The Sweet Presence Of A Good Diffused, And In The Diffusion Ever More Intense! So Shall I Join The Choir Invisible Whose Music Is The Gladness Of The World.

You Must Learn To Deal With The Odd And Even In Life, As Well As In Figures.