That Thou Remember Them, Some Claim As

All Our Life Is But A Going Out To The Place Of Execution, To Death.

Friends Are Ourselves.

Now God Comes To Thee, Not As In The Dawning Of The Day, Not As In The Bud Of The Spring, But As The Sun At Noon To Illustrate All Shadows, As The Sheaves In Harvest, To Fill All Penuries, All Occasions Invite His Mercies, And All Times Are His Seasons.

The Difference Between The Reason Of Man And The Instinct Of The Beast Is This, That The Beast Does But Know, But The Man Knows That He Knows.

No Man Is An Island Unto Himself.