If you stop to be kind, you must swerve often from your path.

Fragrance is the voice of inanimate things.

Saddle your dreams before you ride em.

Autumn is full of leave-taking.

The love of nature is a passion for those in whom it once lodges. It can never be quenched. It cannot change. It is a furious, burning, physical greed, as well as a state of mystical exaltation. It will have its own.

The past is only the present become invisible and mute; and because it is invisible and mute, its memorized glances and its murmurs are infinitely precious. We are tomorrow's past.

But when you dwell in a house you mislike, you will look out of a window a deal more than those that are content with their dwelling.