She Is Too Fond Of Books, And

Oft In The Silence Of The Night, When The Lonely Moon Rides High, When Wintry Winds Are Whistling, And We Hear The Owl's Shrill Cry, In The Quiet, Dusky Chamber, By The Flickering Firelight, Rising Up Between Two Sleepers, Comes A Spirit All In White.

We Don't Choose Our Talents; But We Needn't Hide Them In A Napkin Because They Are Not Just What We Want.

…misfortune Was Much More Interesting To Her Than Good Luck.

Let Us Be Elegant Or Die! --amy

Remember That Frost Comes Latest To Those That Bloom The Highest.