Listen, children: Your father is dead. From his old coats I'll make you little jackets; I'll make you little trousers From his old pants. There'll be in his pockets Things he used to put there, Keys and pennies Covered with tobacco; Dan shall have the pennies To save in his bank; Anne shall have the keys To make a pretty noise with. Life must go on, Though good men die; Anne, eat your breakfast; Dan, take your medicine; Life must go on; I forget just why.

Her lawn looks like a meadow, And if she mows the place She leaves the clover standing And the Queen Anne's Lace.

Beauty is whatever gives joy.

Evil alone has oil for every wheel.

The soul can split the sky in two and let the face of God shine through.

A person who publishes a book willfully appears before the populace with his pants down. If it is a good book nothing can hurt him. If it is a bad book nothing can help him.

The longest absence is less perilous to love than the terrible trials of incessant proximity.