Where's the need of singing now?

Pity is like a knife, sometimes, and it may pierce one who employs it more shrewdly than the victim it would save.

This morning I deleted the hyphen from "hell-bound" and made it one word; this afternoon I redivided it and restored the hyphen.

The world is a kind of spiritual kindergarten where millions of bewildered infants are trying to spell "God" with the wrong blocks.

And thus we all are nighing The truth we fear to know: Death will end our crying For friends that come and go.

Two kinds of gratitude: The sudden kind we feel for what we take; the larger kind we feel for what we give.

Do you hear the children singing?