The misery of keeping a dog is his dying so soon. But, to be sure, if he lived for fifty years and then died, what would become of me?

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The misery of keeping a dog is his dying so soon. But, to be sure, if he lived for fifty years and then died, what would become of me?

-- Anonymous

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We love the fall because of all the orange leaves.

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MAY THE GOOD TIMES AND TREASURES OF THE PRESENT BECOME THE GOLDEN MEMORIES OF TOMORROW.

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Each day is a fresh start.

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When scattered clouds are resting on the bosoms of hills, it seems as if one might climb into the heavenly region, earth being so intermixed with sky, and gradually transformed into it. – Nathaniel Hawthorne

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There is memory in the forest.

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