Every Man's Road In Life

Nature Never Quite Goes Along With Us. She Is Somber At Weddings, Sunny At Funerals, And She Frowns On Ninety-nine Out Of A Hundred Picnics.

If A Man Is Worth Knowing At All, He Is Worth Knowing Well.

We Bury Love; Forgetfulness Grows Over It Like Grass: That Is A Thing To Weep For, Not The Dead.

A Man Gazing At The Stars Is Proverbially At The Mercy Of The Puddles In The Road.

In My Garden, Care Stops At The Gate And Gazes At Me Wistfully Through The Bars.