Flowers are words Which even a babe may understand.

Tis the night—the night
Of the grave's delight,
And the warlocks are at their play;
Ye think that without,
The wild winds shout,
But no, it is they—it is they!

'Tis the night - the night Of the grave's delight, And the warlocks are at their play; Ye think that without The wild winds shout, But no, it is they - it is they.

You don't have to suffer to be a poet; adolescence is enough suffering for anyone.

What a lovely thing a rose is!"

He walked past the couch to the open window and held up the drooping stalk of a moss-rose, looking down at the dainty blend of crimson and green. It was a new phase of his character to me, for I had never before seen him show any keen interest in natural objects.

"There is nothing in which deduction is so necessary as religion," said he, leaning with his back against the shutters. "It can be built up as an exact science by the reasoner. Our highest assurance of the goodness of Providence seems to me to rest in the flowers. All other things, our powers, our desires, our food, are all really necessary for our existence in the first instance. But this rose is an extra. Its smell and its color are an embellishment of life, not a condition of it. It is only goodness which gives extras, and so I say again that we have much to hope from the flowers.

If we're setting the same goal every year, that should be a clue. I tell every person to write down the goal. Write down what you think you'd like your goal to be.