The twilight that surrounds the border-land of old romance.

Sorrow and silence are strong, and patient endurance is godlike.

Behind the clouds is the sun still shining.

Time, like a preacher in the days of the Puritans, turned the hour-glass on his high pulpit, the church belfry.

All sense of hearing and of sight enfold in the serene delight and quietude of sleep.

The day is dark and cold and dreary; it rains, and the wind is never weary.

In the mouths of many men soft words are like roses that soldiers put into the muzzles of their muskets on holidays.