The Emigrant's Way O'er The Western Desert

I Love The Season Well When Forest Glades Are Teeming With Bright Forms, Nor Dark And Many-folded Clouds Foretell The Coming Of Storms.

What Else Remains For Me? Youth, Hope And Love; To Build A New Life On A Ruined Life.

Love Is Sunshine, Hate Is Shadow, Life Is Checkered Shade And Sunshine.

How Absolute And Omnipotent Is The Silence Of Night! And Yet The Stillness Seems Almost Audible! From All The Measureless Depths Of Air Around Us Comes A Half-sound, A Half-whisper, As If We Could Hear The Crumbling And Falling Away Of Earth And All Created Things, In The Great Miracle Of Nature, Decay And Reproduction, Ever Beginning, Never Ending,--the Gradual Lapse And Running Of The Sand In The Great Hour-glass Of Time.

It Is True, That It Is Not At All Necessary To Love Many Books, In Order To Love Them Much.