Each Lost Day Has Its

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.

But Still When The Mists Of Doubt Prevail, And We Lie Becalmed By The Shores Of Age, We Hear From The Misty Troubled Shore The Voce Of Children Gone Before. Drawing The Soul To Its Anchorage.

There Is Peace In The Swamp, Though The Quiet Is Death

One Big Vice In A Man Is Apt To Keep Out A Great Many Smaller Ones.

It May Be Broadly Stated That.....of All Animals Kept For The Recreation Of Mankind The Horse Is Alone Capable Of Exciting A Passion That Shall Be Absolutely Hopeless.