Dreams Are Rudiments Of The Great State

It Is Sad To See The Light Of Beauty Wane Away, Know Eyes Are Dimming, Bosoms Shrivelling, Feet Losing Their Springs, And Limbs Their Lily Roundness; But It Is Worse To Feel The Heart-spring Gone, To Lose Hope, Care Not For The Coming Thing, And Feel All Things Go To Decay Within Us.

Dear Lord, Our God And Saviour! For Thy Gifts The World Were Poor In Thanks, Though Every Soul Were To Do Nought But Breathe Them, Every Blade Of Grass, And Every Atomie Of Earth To Utter It Like Dew.

Fine Thoughts Are Wealth, For The Right Use Of Which Men Are And Ought To Be Accountable,-- If Not To Thee, To Those They Influence.

Respect Is What We Owe; Love, What We Give.

We Must Not Pluck Death From The Maker's Hand.