Women Hate A Debt As

Boot, Saddle, To Horse, And Away!

The Curious Crime, The Fine Felicity And Flower Of Wickedness.

How Well I Know What I Mean To Do When The Long Dark Autumn Evenings Come, And Where, My Soul, Is Thy Pleasant Hue? With The Music Of All Thy Voices, Dumb In Life’s November Too! I Shall Be Found By The Fire, Suppose, O’er A Great Wise Book As Beseemeth Age, While The Shutters Flap As The Cross-wind Blows, And I Turn The Page, And I Turn The Page, Not Verse Now, Only Prose!

Love, Hope, Fear, Faith - These Make Humanity; These Are Its Sign And Note And Character.

Who Knows Most, Doubts Most; Entertaining Hope Means Recognizing Fear.