This book, when I am dead, will be A little faint perfume of me. People who knew me well will say, She really used to think that way.
I shall die, but that is all that I shall do for Death; I am not on his pay-roll.
Strange how few, After alls said and done, the things that are Of moment.
Pour away despair and rinse the cup. Eat happiness like bread.
O world, I cannot hold thee close enough!
Gently they go, the beautiful, the tender, the kind; Quietly they go, the intelligent, the witty, the brave. I know. But I do not approve. And I am not resigned.