Wondrous Strong Are The Spells Of Fiction.

Winter Giveth The Fields, And The Trees So Old, Their Beards Of Icicles And Snow.

Know How Sublime A Thing It Is To Suffer And Be Strong.

Youth Comes But Once A Life Time. Perhaps, But It Remains Strong In Many For Their Entire Lives.

The Best Thing One Can Do When It's Raining Is To Let It Rain.

O Ye Dead Poets, Who Are Living Still Immortal In Your Verse, Though Life Be Fled, And Ye, O Living Poets, Who Are Dead Though Ye Are Living, If Neglect Can Kill, Tell Me If In The Darkest Hours Of Ill, With Drops Of Anguish Falling Fast And Red From The Sharp Crown Of Thorns Upon Your Head, Ye Were Not Glad Your Errand To Fulfill?