Look to the East, where up the lucid sky; the morning climbs! The day shall yet be fair.

This very act of planting a seed in the earth has in it to me something beautiful. I always do it with a joy that is largely mixed with awe.

There shall be an eternal summer in the grateful heart.

One golden day redeems a weary year

If death were the exception and not the rule, and we were not so swiftly to follow, these separations would be intolerably sad. We know no more of our next change of life than we knew of this before we were born into it; but that which we call death is merely change, who can doubt?

Look to the East, where up the lucid sky; the morning climbs! The day shall yet be fair.

As I hold the flower in my hand and think of trying to describe it, I realize how poor a creature I am, how impotent are words in the presence of such perfection.