Then followed that beautiful season... Summer.... Filled was the air with a dreamy and magical light; and the landscape Lay as if new created in all the freshness of childhood.

It is autumn; not without But within me is the cold. Youth and spring are all about; It is I that have grown old.

Truly, this world can go on without us, if we would but think so.

Death is the chillness that precedes the dawn; We shudder for a moment, then awake In the broad sunshine of the other life.

I venerate old age; and I love not the man who can look without emotion upon the sunset of life, when the dusk of evening begins to gather over the watery eye, and the shadows of twilight grow broader and deeper upon the understanding.

Our blossoms of passion, gay and luxuriant flowers, are bright and full of fragrance, but they beguile us and lead us astray, and their odor is deadly.

If you would hit the mark, you must aim a little above it.