Words Aren't Made — They Grow,' Said

I Know That In Everybody's Life Must Come Days Of Depression And Discouragement When All Things In Life Seem To Lose Savour. The Sunniest Day Has Its Clouds;but One Must Not Forget The Sun Is There All The Time.

It Was November--the Month Of Crimson Sunsets, Parting Birds, Deep, Sad Hymns Of The Sea, Passionate Wind-songs In The Pines. Anne Roamed Through The Pineland Alleys In The Park And, As She Said, Let That Great Sweeping Wind Blow The Fogs Out Of Her Soul.

The Little Things In Life Often Make More Trouble Than The Big Things.

Perhaps, After All, Romance Did Not Come Into One’s Life With Pomp And Blare, Like A Gay Knight Riding Down; Perhaps It Crept To One’s Side Like An Old Friend Through Quiet Ways; Perhaps It Revealed Itself In Seeming Prose, Until Some Sudden Shaft Of Illumination Flung Athwart Its Pages Betrayed The Rhythm And The Music, Perhaps . . . Perhaps . . . Love Unfolded Naturally Out Of A Beautiful Friendship, As A Golden-hearted Rose Slipping From Its Green Sheath.

Life, Deal Gently With Her ... Love, Never Desert Her