One Always Begins To Forgive A Place

When I Have Come To You, At Last (as I Have Always Done), I Have Come To Peace And Happiness. I Come Home, Now, Like A Tired Traveller, And Find Such A Blessed Sense Of Rest!

A Man In Public Life Expects To Be Sneered At -- It Is The Fault Of His Elevated Situation, And Not Of Himself.

A Blight Had Fallen On The Trees And Shrubs; And The Wind, At Length Beginning To Break The Unnatural Stillness That Had Prevailed All Day, Sighed Heavily From Time To Time, As Though Foretelling In Grief The Ravages Of The Coming Storm. The Bat Skimmed In Fantastic Flights Through The Heavy Air, And The Ground Was Alive With Crawling Things, Whose Instinct Brought Them Forth To Swell And Fatten In The Rain.

It May Be Only Small Injustice That The Child Can Be Exposed To; But The Child Is Small, And Its World Is Small, And Its Rocking-horse Stands As Many Hands High, According To Scale, As A Big-boned Irish Hunter.

But I Am Sure That I Have Always Thought Of Christmas Time, When It Has Come Round...as A Good Time; A Kind, Forgiving, Charitable, Pleasant Time; The Only Time I Know Of, In The Long Calendar Of The Year, When Men And Women Seem By One Consent To Open Their Shut-up Hearts Freely.