Cakes Have Such A Terrible Habit Of

I Don't Really Care What People Think About Me If They Don't Let Me See It.

Never Write A Line You'd Be Ashamed To Read At Your Own Funeral.

In Daylight I Belong To The World . . . In The Night To Sleep And Eternity. But In The Dusk I'm Free From Both And Belong Only To Myself . . . And You

But She Had Long Ago Learned That When She Wandered Into The Realm Of Fancy She Must Go Alone. The Way To It Was By An Enchanted Path Where Not Even Her Dearest Might Follow Her.

Trees Have As Much Individuality As Human Beings. Not Even Two Spruces Are Alike. There Is Always Some Kink Or Curve Or Bend Of Bough To Single Each One Out From Its Fellows.