Gossip, As Usual, Was One-third Right And

It Was October Again ... A Glorious October, All Red And Gold, With Mellow Mornings When The Valleys Were Filled With Delicate Mists As If The Spirit Of Autumn Had Poured Them In For The Sun To Drain - Amethyst, Pearl, Silver, Rose, And Smoke-blue. The Dews Were So Heavy That The Fields Glistened Like Cloth Of Silver And There Were Such Heaps Of Rustling Leaves In The Hollows Of Many-stemmed Woods To Run Crisply Through.

We Must Have Ideals And Try To Live Up To Them, Even If We Never Quite Succeed. Life Would Be A Sorry Business Without Them. With Them It's Grand And Great.

To Love Is Easy And Therefore Common - But To Understand - How Rare It Is!

There Is Such A Place As Fairyland - But Only Children Can Find The Way To It...until They Have Grown So Old That They Forget The Way. Only A Few, Who Remain Children At Heart, Can Ever Find That Fair, Lost Path Again...the World Calls Them Singers And Poets And Artists And Story-tellers; But They Are Just People Who Have Never Forgotten The Way To Fairyland.

It's Dreadful What Little Things Lead People To Misunderstand Each Other.