One Reason Why I Like Writing Poetry

I Wonder What A Soul…a Person's Soul…would Look Like,' Said Priscilla Dreamily. 'like That, I Should Think,' Answered Anne, Pointing To A Radiance Of Sifted Sunlight Streaming Through A Birch Tree. 'only With Shape And Features Of Course. I Like To Fancy Souls As Being Made Of Light. And Some Are All Shot Through With Rosy Stains And Quivers…and Some Have A Soft Glitter Like Moonlight On The Sea…and Some Are Pale And Transparent Like Mist At Dawn.

If You Can Sit In Silence With A Person For Half An Hour And Yet Be Entirely Comfortable, You And That Person Can Be Friends. If You Cannot, Friends You'll Never Be And You Need Not Waste Time In Trying.

It Is Ever So Much Easier To Be Good If Your Clothes Are Fashionable.

Facts Are Stubborn Things, But, As Some One Has Wisely Said, Not Half So Stubborn As Fallacies.

I Don't Know, I Don't Want To Talk As Much. (...) It's Nicer To Think Dear, Pretty Thoughts And Keep Them In One's Heart, Like Treasures. I Don't Like To Have Them Laughed At Or Wondered Over.