The Park Avenue of poodles and polished brass; it is cab country, tip-town, glassville, a window-washer's paradise.

The Park Avenue of poodles and polished brass; it is cab country, tip-town, glassville, a window-washer's paradise.

Though sands be black and bitter black the sea,
Night lie before me and behind me night,
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Though sands be black and bitter black the sea,
Night lie before me and behind me night,
And God within far Heaven refuse to light
The consolation of the dawn for me,--
Between the shadowy burns of Heaven and Hell,
It is enough love leaves my soul to dwell
With memory.

A great many complimentary things have been said about the
faculty of memory, and if you look in a read more

A great many complimentary things have been said about the
faculty of memory, and if you look in a good quotation book you
will find them neatly arranged.

Many a man fails as an original thinker simply because his memory it too good.

Many a man fails as an original thinker simply because his memory it too good.

Do not trust your memory; it is a net full of holes; the most
beautiful prizes slip through it.

Do not trust your memory; it is a net full of holes; the most
beautiful prizes slip through it.

Always remember to slow down in life; live, breathe, and learn; take a look around you whenever you have time read more

Always remember to slow down in life; live, breathe, and learn; take a look around you whenever you have time and never forget everything and every person that has the least place within your heart.

A man of great memory without learning hath a rock and a spindle and no staff to spin.

A man of great memory without learning hath a rock and a spindle and no staff to spin.

Be such a man, and live such a life, that if every man were such as you, and every life read more

Be such a man, and live such a life, that if every man were such as you, and every life a life like yours, this earth would be God's Paradise.

The mother may forget the child
That smiles sae sweetly on her knee;
But I'll remember thee, read more

The mother may forget the child
That smiles sae sweetly on her knee;
But I'll remember thee, Glencairn,
And all that thou hast done for me!