Let The Dead Past Bury Its Dead!

Art Is The Child Of Nature; Yes, Her Darling Child, In Whom We Trace The Features Of The Mother's Face, Her Aspect And Her Attitude, All Her Majestic Loveliness Chastened And Softened And Subdued Into A More Attractive Grace, And With A Human Sense Imbued. He Is The Greatest Artist, Then, Whether Of Pencil Or Of Pen, Who Follows Nature.

Be Thy Sleep Silent As Night Is, And As Deep.

'tis Always Morning Somewhere, And Abovethe Awakening Continents, From Shore To Shore,somewhere The Birds Are Singing Evermore.

Between The Dark And The Daylight, When The Night Is Beginning To Lower, Comes A Pause In The Day's Occupations, That Is Known As The Children's Hour.

Though The Mills Of God Grind Slowly, Yet They Grind Exceeding Small; Though With Patience He Stands Waiting, With Exactness Grinds He All.