I Shall Give Life Here My Best,

Let's Not Borrow Trouble. The Rate Of Interest Is Too High.

Most Things Are Predestined, But Some Are Just Darn Sheer Luck, Said Roaring Abel.

When I Think Something Nice Is Going To Happen I Seem To Fly Right Up On The Wings Of Anticipation; And Then The First Thing I Realize I Drop Down To Earth With A Thud. But Really, Marilla, The Flying Part Is Glorious As Long As It Lasts. . . It's Like Soaring Through A Sunset. I Think It Almost Pays For The Thud.

The Woods Are Never Solitary — They Are Full Of Whispering, Beckoning, Friendly Life. But The Sea Is A Mighty Soul, Forever Moaning Of Some Great, Unshareable Sorrow, Which Shuts It Up Into Itself For All Eternity. We Can Never Pierce Its Infinite Mystery — We May Only Wander, Awed And Spellbound, On The Outer Fringe Of It. The Woods Call To Us With A Hundred Voices, But The Sea Has One Only — A Mighty Voice.

Wouldn't It Be Nice If Roses Could Talk? I'm Sure They Could Tell Us Such Lovely Things.