Our Words Have Wings, But Fly Not

There Are Various Orders Of Beauty, Causing Men To Make Fools Of Themselves In Various Styles.

Our Words Have Wings, But Fly Not Where We Would.

The Only Failure One Should Fear, Is Not Hugging To The Purpose They See As Best.

Is Not This A True Autumn Day? Just The Still Melancholy That I Love - That Makes Life And Nature Harmonise. The Birds Are Consulting About Their Migrations, The Trees Are Putting On The Hectic Or The Pallid Hues Of Decay, And Begin To Strew The Ground, That One's Very Footsteps May Not Disturb The Repose Of Earth And Air, While They Give Us A Scent That Is A Perfect Anodyne To The Restless Spirit. Delicious Autumn! My Very Soul Is Wedded To It, And If I Were A Bird I Would Fly About The Earth Seeking The Successive Autumns.

Souls Live On In Perpetual Echoes.