Oh, If It Be To Choose And

Bells Are Musics Laughter.

No Shade, No Shine, No Butterflies, No Bees, No Fruits, No Flowers, No Leaves, No Birds - November!

Alas For The Rarity Of Christian Charity Under The Sun!

For Man May Pious Texts Repeat, And Yet Religion Have No Inward Seat

When He Is Forsaken, Withered And Shaken, What Can An Old Man Do But Die?