Autumn wins you best by this its mute appeal to sympathy for its decay.

Are there not, dear Michael, Two points in the adventure of the diver,- One, when a beggar he prepares to plunge; One, when a prince he rises with his pearl? Festus, I plunge.

Therefore I summon age / To grant youth's heritage.

But what if I fail of my purpose here? It is but to keep the nerves at strain, to dry one's eyes and laugh at a fall, and baffled, get up and begin again.

There is an inmost center in us all, where truth abides in fullness;....and, to know, rather consists in opening out a way where the imprisoned splendor may escape, then in effecting entry for a light supposed to be without.

The great beacon light God sets in all, the conscience of each bosom.

Time'swheelsrunsbackor stops: Potterand clayendure.