How deeply seated in the human heart is the liking for gardens and gardening.
My heart like moon-charmed waters, all unrest.
Your death and my death are mainly of importance to ourselves. The black plumes will be stripped off our hearses within the hour; tears will dry, hurt hearts close again, our graves grow level with the church-yard, and although we are away, the world wags on. It does not miss us; and those who are near us, when the first strangeness of vacancy wears off, will not miss us much either.
Good-humor and, generosity carry day with the popular heart all the world over.
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