We Waste Our Best Years In Distilling

O Thou Child Of Many Prayers! Life Hath Quicksands, Life Hath Snares! Care And Age Come Unawares!

The Rays Of Happiness, Like Those Of Light, Are Colorless When Unbroken.

Love Is The Root Of Creation; God's Essence; Worlds Without Number Lie In His Bosom Like Children; He Made Them For This Purpose Only. Only To Love And To Be Loved Again.

There Are Favorable Hours For Reading A Book, As For Writing It.

Midnight! The Outpost Of Advancing Day! The Frontier Town And Citadel Of Night!