And He Wrote, "when The Moon Rises

Don't You Just Love Poetry That Gives You A Crinkly Feeling Up And Down Your Back?

I Wonder If It Will Be—can Be—any More Beautiful Than This,’ Murmured Anne, Looking Around Her With The Loving, Enraptured Eyes Of Those To Whom ‘home’ Must Always Be The Loveliest Spot In The World, No Matter What Fairer Lands May Lie Under Alien Stars.

A Child That Has A Quick Temper, Just Blaze Up And Cool Down, Ain't Never Likely To Be Sly Or Deceitful.

I'm Afraid To Speak Or Move For Fear That All This Wonderful Beauty Will Just Vanish... Like A Broken Silence.

Walter's Eyes Were Very Wonderful. All The Joy And Sorrow And Laughter And Loyalty And Aspirations Of Many Generations Lying Under The Sod Looked Out Of Their Dark-gray Depths.