For Ivy Climbs The Crumbling Hall To

The Worst Way To Improve The World Is To Condemn It.

The Truth Of Truths Is Love.

Dear Lord, Our God And Saviour! For Thy Gifts The World Were Poor In Thanks, Though Every Soul Were To Do Nought But Breathe Them, Every Blade Of Grass, And Every Atomie Of Earth To Utter It Like Dew.

Thou Art A Woman, And That Is Saying The Best And Worst Of Thee.

We Live In Deeds, Not Years; In Thoughts, Not Breaths; In Feelings, Not In Figures On A Dial.