I see nothing. We may sink and settle on the waves. The sea will drum in my ears. The white petals will be darkened with sea water. They will float for a moment and then sink. Rolling over the waves will shoulder me under. Everything falls in a tremendous shower, dissolving me.

I enjoy the spring more than the autumn now. One does, I think, as one gets older.

I ride rough waters, and shall sink with no one to save me.

To make ideas effective, we must be able to fire them off. We must put them into action.

The strange thing about life is that though the nature of it must have been apparent to every one for hundreds of years, no one has left any adequate account of it.

But what a little I can get down into my pen of what is so vivid to my eyes, and not only to my eyes; also to some nervous fibre, or fanlike membrane in my species.

Whenever you see a board up with "Trespassers will be prosecuted," trespass at once.