Our Pleasures And Our Discontents, Are Rounds

Time Has Laid His Hand Upon My Heart, Gently, Not Smiting It, But As A Harper Lays His Open Palm Upon His Harp, To Deaden Its Vibrations.

Glorious Indeed Is The World Of God Around Us, But More Glorious The World Of God Within Us.

If You Would Hit The Mark, You Must Aim A Little Above It.

Our Blossoms Of Passion, Gay And Luxuriant Flowers, Are Bright And Full Of Fragrance, But They Beguile Us And Lead Us Astray, And Their Odor Is Deadly.

Let Us Then, Be Up And Doing.