Clothe with life the weak intent, Let me be the thing I meant.

The continuity of life is never broken; the river flows onward and is lost to our sight, but under its new horizon it carries the same waters which it gathered under ours, and its unseen valleys are made glad by the offerings which are borne down to them from the past,--flowers, perchance, the germs of which its own waves had planted on the banks of Time.

What moistens the lip and what brightens the eye? What calls back the past like the rich pumpkin pie?

A charmed life old goodness hath; the tares may perish, but the grain is not for death.

He is wisest, who only gives, True to himself, the best he can: Who drifting on the winds of praise, The inward monitor obeys. And with the boldness that confuses fear Takes in the crowded sail, and lets his conscience steer.

Tradition wears a snowy beard, romance is always young.

The good is always beautiful, the beautiful is good!