A Single Soul Is Richer

I Go Into My Library And All History Unrolls Before Me.

In The Entire Circle Of The Year There Are No Days So Delightful As Those Of A Fine October, When The Trees Are Bare To The Mild Heavens, And The Red Leaves Bestrew The Road, And You Can Feel The Breath Of Winter, Morning And Evening - No Days So Calm, So Tenderly Solemn, And With Such A Reverent Meekness In The Air.

Trees Are Your Best Antiques

If You Wish To Preserve Your Secret, Wrap It Up In Frankness.

The Dead Keep Their Secrets, And In A While We Shall Be As Wise As They - And As Taciturn.