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— Helen Hunt Jackson"For April sobs while these are so glad April weeps while these are so gay,- Weeps like a tired child who had, Playing with flowers, lost its way."
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Old April wanes, and her last dewy morn Her death-bed steeps in tears; to hail the May New blooming blossoms neath the sun are born, And all poor April's charms are swept away.
— John Clare
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We were led to a pediatric ophthalmologist. It's a hard date for me, April 14, 1998. The doctor came back from the examining room and told us she had tumors in both eyes.
— Hunter Tylo
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