Hand in hand to the dawn, dear
We go to the gates of day,
Where the sweet light beckons on, dear,
And the roses line the way;
And whether the clouds are heavy,
Or whether the skies are blue,
A song on the lips of love, dear,
And a light in the eyes of you!
Caught on the Fly.
A man is what he is, not what he heaps around him.
When life passes into the rocking-chair existence, it has no energies for combat.
To have one friend who believes in you is more than to be a favorite of extreme good fortune.
Little Sermons.
Untempted virtue is frequently only undeveloped vice.
When a man's religion brings a long face, he simply got fooled in the article he found.