Nothing That Is Can Pause Or Stay.

Life Hath Quicksands, Life Hath Snares!

A Man Must Be Of A Very Quiet And Happy Nature, Who Can Long Endure The Country; And, Moreover, Very Well Contented With His Own Insignificant Person.

They, The Holy Ones And Weakly, Who The Cross Of Suffering Bore, Folded Their Pale Hands So Meekly, Spake With Us On Earth No More!

There's Nothing Fair Nor Beautiful, But Takes Something From Thee, That Makes It Beautiful.

Art Is The Gift Of God, And Must Be Used Unto His Glory.