Beautiful as a dandelion-blossom, golden in the green grass, This life can be. Common as a dandelion-blossom, beautiful in the clean grass, not beautiful Because common, beautiful because beautiful, Noble because common, because free.

Childhood Is the Kingdom Where Nobody Dies.

Not Truth, but Faith it is that keeps the world alive.

Heap not on this mound roses that she loved so well; why bewilder her with roses that she cannot see or smell.

The Englishman foxtrots as he fox-hunts, with all his being, through thickets, through ditches, over hedges, through chiffons, through waiters, over saxophones, to the victorious finish; and who goes home depends on how many the ambulance will accommodate.

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.

After all my erstwhile dear, my no longer cherished; Need we say it was not love, just because it perished?