Fair Words Gladden So Many A Heart.

All That Is Best In The Great Poets Of All Countries Is Not What Is National In Them, But What Is Universal.

O Gift Of God! O Perfect Day: Whereon Shall No Man Work, But Play; Whereon It Is Enough For Me, Not To Be Doing, But To Be!

The Great Tragedy Of The Average Man Is That He Goes To His Grave With His Music Still In Him.

He Spoke Well Who Said That Graves Are The Footprints Of Angels.

Softly The Evening Came /with The Sunset/.