Every Life Has Its Years In Which

I Know Well There Is No Comfort For This Pain Of Parting. The Wound Always Remains, But One Learns To Bear The Pain, And Learns To Thank God For What He Gave. For The Beautiful Memories Of The Past, And The Yet More Beautiful Hope For The Future.

The Person Who Knows Only One Religion Does Not Know Any Religion.

And Then When All Around Grows Dark, When We Feel Utterly Alone, When All Men Right And Left Pass Us By And Know Us Not, A Forgotten Feeling Rises In The Breast.

Without A Belief In Personal Immortality, Religion Surely Is Like An Arch Resting On One Pillar, Like A Bridge Ending In An Abyss.

The First Pages Of Memory Are Like The Old Family Bible. The First Leaves Are Wholly Faded And Somewhat Soiled With Handling. But, When We Turn Further, And Come To The Chapters Where Adam And Eve Were Banished From Paradise, Then, All Begins To Grow Clear And Legible.