And Blessed Are The Horny Hands Of

A Man Is Old When He Can Pass An Apple Orchard And Not Remember The Stomachache.

And The Poorest Twig On The Elm-tree Was Ridged Inch Deep With Pearl.

The Stiff Rails Were Softened To Swan's-down, And Still Fluttered Down The Snow.

In The Parliament Of The Present Every Man Represents A Constituency Of The Past.

In The Scale Of The Destinies, Brawn Will Never Weigh So Mach As Brain.