Yesterday's errors let yesterday cover.

As we meet and touch, each day, The many travelers on our way, Let every such brief contact be A glorious, helpful minister.

Few things are more aggravating than to be forgiven when one has done no wrong.

Softly drops the crimson sun: Softly down from overhead, Drop the bell-notes, one by one, Melting in the melting red.

True love is not selfish. In time it accustoms itself to anything which secures happiness for its object.

...this pause of rest, This morning hush before the sun.

Earth's saddest day and gladdest day were just three days apart!