For April sobs while these are so glad April weeps while these are so gay,- Weeps like a tired child who had, Playing with flowers, lost its way.
Helen Hunt JacksonThat indescribable expression peculiar to people who hope they have not been asleep, but know they have.
Helen Hunt JacksonGreat loves, to the last, have pulses red; All great loves that have ever died dropped dead.
Helen Hunt Jackson