Think, in mounting higher, the angels would press on us, and aspire to drop some golden orb of perfect song into our deep, dear silence.

The flower-girl's prayer to buy roses and pinks, held out in the smoke, like stars by day.

Girls blush, sometimes, because they are alive, half wishing they were dead to save the shame. The sudden blush devours them, neck and brow; They have drawn too near the fire of life, like gnats, and flare up bodily, wings and all. What then? Who's sorry for a gnat or girl?

I, who had had my heart full for hours, took advantage of an early moment of solitude, to cry in it very bitterly. Suddenly a little hairy head thrust itself from behind my pillow into my face, rubbing its ears and nose against me in a responsive agitation, and drying the tears as they came.

If we tried To sink the past beneath our feet, be sure The future would not stand.

Light tomorrow with today!

It was not the apple on the tree but the pair on the ground that caused the trouble in the garden of Eden.