I shall be found with 'Indians' engraved on my brain when I am dead. A fire has been kindled within me, which will never go out.

Now and then one sees a face which has kept its smile pure and undefiled. Such a smile transfigures; such a smile, if the artful but know it, is the greatest weapon a face can have.

By all these lovely tokens September days are here, With summer's best of weather And autumn's best of cheer.

The woman who creates and sustains a home, and under whose hands children grow up to be strong and pure men and women, is a creator second only to God.

The goldenrod is yellow, The corn is turning brown, The trees in apple orchards With fruit are bending down.

Stain my eyes as I may, on all sides all is black.

When Time is spent, Eternity begins.