And To The Faithful: Death, The Gate

With Eyes Of Conjugal Attraction Unreprov'd. Imparadised In One Another's Arms. With Thee Conversing I Forget All Time. And Feel That I Am Happier Than I Know.

Good, The More Communicated, More Abundant Grows.

Our Cure, To Be No More; Sad Cure!

We Shall Sooner Have The Fowl By Hatching The Egg Than By Smashing It. Abraham Lincoln, White House Speech 11 April 1865. Or Arm Th' Obdured Breast With Stubborn Patience As With Triple Steel.

Sweet Is The Breath Of Morn, Her Rising Sweet, With Charm Of Earliest Birds.