Father, O Father! What Do We Here

O Thou Who Passest Through Our Valleys In Thy Strength, Curb Thy Fierce Steeds, Allay The Heat That Flames From Their Large Nostrils! Thou, O Summer, Oft Pitchest Here Thy Golden Tent, And Oft Beneath Our Oaks Hast Slept, While We Beheld With Joy Thy Ruddy Limbs And Flourishing Hair.

The Foundation Of Empire Is Art And Science. Remove Them Or Degrade Them, And The Empire Is No More. Empire Follows Art And Not Vice Versa As Englishmen Suppose.

I Myself Do Nothing. The Holy Spirit Accomplishes All Through Me.

Imitation Is Criticism.

You Never Know What Is Enough Unless You Know What Is More Than Enough.