Forever Is Composed Of Nows.

Wonder Is Not Precisely Knowing.

Nature, Like Us Is Sometimes Caught Without Her Diadem.

I Held A Jewel In My Fingers And Went To Sleep. The Day Was Warm, And Winds Were Prosy; I Said: "'t Will Keep." I Woke And Chid My Honest Fingers,— The Gem Was Gone; And Now An Amethyst Remembrance Is All I Own.

November Always Seemed To Me The Norway Of The Year.

Hope Is A Strange Invention - A Patent Of The Heart - In Unremitting Action Yet Never Wearing Out