Your Voices Break And Falter In The

The Delicate Thought, That Cannot Find Expression, For Ruder Speech Too Fair, That, Like Thy Petals, Trembles In Possession, And Scatters On The Air.

And Then, For An Old Man Like Me, It's Not Exactly Right,this Kind O' Playing Soldier With No Enemy In Sight.

A Bird In The Hand Is A Certainty, But A Bird In The Bush May Sing.

Crude At First [the Short Story] Received A Literary Polish In The Press, But Its Dominant Quality Remained. It Was Concise And Condense, Yet Suggestive. It Was Delightfully Extravagant - Or A Miracle Of Understatement

Perhaps There Is No Gift Of Nature That Requires As Little Exertion On The Part Of The Owner As Personal Beauty. I Am Not Certain But That It Is This Very Absence Of Effort Which Excites Our Admiration.