Better Lose Your Life Than

If People Really Want To Go, And Really Try All Their Lives, I Think They Will Get In; For I Don't Believe There Are Any Locks On That Door, Or Any Guards At The Gate. I Always Imagine It Is As It Is In The Picture, Where The Shining Ones Stretch Out Their Hands To Welcome Poor Christian As He Comes Up From The River.

Good Books, Like Good Friends, Are Few And Chosen; The More Select, The More Enjoyable.

Oft In The Silence Of The Night, When The Lonely Moon Rides High, When Wintry Winds Are Whistling, And We Hear The Owl's Shrill Cry, In The Quiet, Dusky Chamber, By The Flickering Firelight, Rising Up Between Two Sleepers, Comes A Spirit All In White.

I Could Have Been A Great Many Things.

You Are The Gull, Jo, Strong And Wild, Fond Of The Storm And The Wind, Flying Far Out To Sea, And Happy All Alone.