Or Like The Snow Falls In The

Good Lord, What Is Man! For As Simple He Looks, Do But Try To Develop His Books And His Crooks, With His Depths And His Shallows, His Good And His Evil, All In All, He's A Problem Must Puzzle The Devil.

I Look On The Opposite Sex With Something Like The Admiration With Which I Regard The Starry Sky On A Frosty December Night. I Admire The Beauty Of The Creator's Workmanship, I Am Charmed With The Wild But Graceful Eccentricity Of The Motions, And Then I Wish Both Of Them Goodnight.

All My Fears And Cares Are Of This World; If There Is Another, An Honest Man Has Nothing To Fear From It.

Or Like The Snow Falls In The River, A Moment White-then Melts For Ever . . .

Life Is But A Day At Most.