Colors Are The Smiles Of

A Pleasure So Exquisite As Almost To Amount To Pain.

Colors Are The Smiles Of Nature.

When Goethe Says That In Every Human Condition Foes Lie In Wait For Us, "invincible Only By Cheerfulness And Equanimity," He Does Not Mean That We Can At All Times Be Really Cheerful, Or At A Moment's Notice; But That The Endeavor To Look At The Better Side Of Things Will Produce The Habit, And That This Habit Is The Surest Safeguard Against The Danger Of Sudden Evils.

The Golden Line Is Drawn Between Winter And Summer. Behind All Is Blackness And Darkness And Dissolution. Before Is Hope, And Soft Airs, And The Flowers, And The Sweet Season Of Hay; And People Will Cross The Fields, Reading Or Walking With One Another; And Instead Of The Rain That Soaks Death Into The Heart Of Green Things, Will Be The Rain Which They Drink With Delight; And There Will Be Sleep On The Grass At Midday, And Early Rising In The Morning, And Long Moonlight Evenings.

Bread, Milk And Butter Are Of Venerable Antiquity. They Taste Of The Morning Of The World.