Words Are The Motes Of Thought, And

The Sun, Centre And Sire Of Light, The Keystone Of The World-built Arch Of Heaven.

The Value Of A Thought Cannot Be Told.

See The Gold Sunshine Patching, And Streaming And Streaking Across The Gray-green Oaks; And Catching, By Its Soft Brown Beard, The Moss.

Evil And Good Are God's Right Hand And Left.

Let Us Think Less Of Men And More Of God.