Facts Are Stubborn Things, But, As Some

Hark, I Hear A Robin Calling! List, The Wind Is From The South! And The Orchard-bloom Is Falling Sweet As Kisses On The Mouth. In The Dreamy Vale Of Beeches Fair And Faint Is Woven Mist, And The River's Orient Reaches Are The Palest Amethyst. Every Limpid Brook Is Singing Of The Lure Of April Days; Every Piney Glen Is Ringing With The Maddest Roundelays. Come And Let Us Seek Together Springtime Lore Of Daffodils, Giving To The Golden Weather Greeting On The Sun-warm Hills.

I Don't Really Care What People Think About Me If They Don't Let Me See It.

Don't Try To Write Anything You Can't Feel - It Will Be A Failure - 'echoes Nothing Worth

I Love Pretty Things; And I Hate To Look In The Glass And See Something That Isn't Pretty. It Makes Me Feel So Sorrowful—just As I Feel When I Look At Any Ugly Thing. I Pity It Because It Isn't Beautiful.

Good Night, Belovedest. Your Sleep Will Be Sweet If There Is Any Influences In The Wishes Of Your Own.