As To The Pure Mind All Things

See Yonder Fire! It Is The Moon Slow Rising O'er The Eastern Hill. It Glimmers On The Forest Tips, And Through The Dewy Foliage Drips In Little Rivulets Of Light, And Makes The Heart In Love With Night.

What Shall I Say To You? What Can I Say Better Than Silence Is?

Defeat May Be Victory In Disguise.

When Christ Ascended Triumphantly From Star To Star He Left The Gates Of Heaven Ajar.

Many Have Genius, But, Wanting Art, Are Forever Dumb. The Two Must Go Together To Form The Great Poet, Painter, Or Sculptor.