Some great poet or philosopher once said that " he who goes to nature for comfort must go to her empty handed " , and I think he was right.

What greater restoratives have we poor mortals than a good meal taken in the company of loving friends?

Any artwork needs time and patience and needs above a quiet mind.

You can lock up from a thief, but you can't from a liar.

The luxuries of the few were becoming necessities of the many.

What is charm, it is not a moral quality, it is not intellectual for no man by much thinking is able to add a grain of it to his personality. One either has it or has it not, it cannot be acquired or even cultivated. It is not physical even, it seems to be added to the human personality, an aura, a glow, the gold dust upon a butterfly's wing, the bloom upon a peach.

Nature knows no calendar, the seasons move in a circle.