the occasional cries of a lost loon, strayed from its flock in northern migration, fill the swamp with sounds of wailing.

What was money that it should make such dreadful things of men and women?

You cannot write on the heart of another what you do not feel yourself.

a trouble shared is a trouble half endured.

Nature always levies her tribute.

I do not know why it is the fate of the world always to want something different from what life gives them.

we know by the odour that occasionally we are visited by skunks, which are not poetic but very beautiful.