Kind hearts are the gardens, Kind thoughts are the roots, Kind words are the flowers, Kind deeds are the fruits, Take care of your garden And keep out the weeds, Fill it with sunshine, Kind words, and Kind deeds.

The air of summer was sweeter than wine.

Nature is a revelation of God; Art a revelation of man.

The leaves of memory seemed to make A mournful rustling in the dark

The poor too often turn away unheard, From hearts that shut against them with a sound That will be heard in heaven.

The motives and purposes of authors are not always so pure and high, as, in the enthusiasm of youth, we sometimes imagine. To many the trumpet of fame is nothing but a tin horn to call them home, like laborers from, the field, at dinner-time, and they think themselves lucky to get the dinner.

Into each life some rain must fall.