So Over Violent, Or Over Civil That

As Poetry Is The Harmony Of Words, So Music Is That Of Notes.

She Feared No Danger, For She Knew No Sin.

A Good Conscience Is A Port Which Is Landlocked On Every Side, Where No Winds Can Possibly Invade. There A Man May Not Only See His Own Image, But That Of His Maker, Clearly Reflected From The Undisturbed Waters.

What Precious Drops Are Those, Which Silently Each Other's Track Pursue, Bright As Young Diamonds In Their Faint Dew?

Order Is The Greatest Grace.