And O There Are Days In This

Every Traveler Has A Home Of His Own, And He Learns To Appreciate It The More From His Wandering.

But The Moon Came Slowly Up In All Her Gentle Glory, And The Stars Looked Out, And Through The Small Compass Of The Grated Window, As Through The Narrow Crevice Of One Good Deed In A Murky Life Of Guilt, The Face Of Heaven Shone Bright And Merciful. He Raised His Head; Gazed Upward At The Quiet Sky, Which Seemed To Smile Upon The Earth In Sadness, As If The Night, More Thoughtful Than The Day, Looked Down In Sorrow On The Sufferings And Evil Deeds Of Men; And Felt Its Peace Sink Deep Into His Heart.

I Distress You; I Draw Fast To An End.

Every Baby Born Into The World Is A Finer One Than The Last.

...and To-morrow Looked In My Face More Steadily Than I Could Look At It