My Pen Shall Heal, Not Hurt.

Hark, I Hear A Robin Calling! List, The Wind Is From The South! And The Orchard-bloom Is Falling Sweet As Kisses On The Mouth. In The Dreamy Vale Of Beeches Fair And Faint Is Woven Mist, And The River's Orient Reaches Are The Palest Amethyst. Every Limpid Brook Is Singing Of The Lure Of April Days; Every Piney Glen Is Ringing With The Maddest Roundelays. Come And Let Us Seek Together Springtime Lore Of Daffodils, Giving To The Golden Weather Greeting On The Sun-warm Hills.

We Are Never Half So Interesting When We Have Learned That Language Is Given Us To Enable Us To Conceal Our Thoughts.

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

I've Had A Splendid Time," She Concluded Happily, "and I Feel That It Marks An Epoch In My Life. But The Best Of It All Was The Coming Home.

Anne "felt Instinctively" That Romance Was Peeping At Her Around A Corner.