Let The Music Speak To Us Of

I Haven't Much Time To Be Fond Of Anything ... But When I Have A Moment's Fondness To Bestow, Most Times ... The Roses Get It. I Began My Life Among Them In My Father's Nursery Garden, And I Shall End My Life Among Them, If I Can. Yes. One Of These Days (please God) I Shall Retire From Catching Thieves, And Try My Hand At Growing Roses.

Yes! The Books - The Generous Friends Who Met Me Without Suspicion - The Merciful Masters Who Never Used Me Ill! The Only Years Of My Life That I Can Look Back On With Something Like Pride... Early And Late, Through The Long Winter Nights And The Quiet Summer Days, I Drank At The Fountain Of Knowledge, And Never Wearied Of The Draught.

Your Tears Come Easy, When You're Young, And Beginning The World. Your Tears Come Easy, When You're Old, And Leaving It. I Burst Out Crying.

Not The Shadow Of A Doubt Crossed My Mind Of The Purpose For Which The Count Had Left The Theatre. His Escape From Us, That Evening, Was Beyond All Question The Preliminary Only To His Escape From London. The Mark Of The Brotherhood Was On His Arm-i Felt As Certain Of It As If He Had Shown Me The Brand; And The Betrayal Of The Brotherhood Was On His Conscience-i Had Seen It In His Recognition Of Pesca.

I Say What Other People Only Think, And When All The Rest Of The World Is In A Conspiracy To Accept The Mask For The True Face, Mine Is The Rash Hand That Tears Off The Plump Pasteboard And Shows The Bare Bones Beneath.