Build Today, Then Strong And Sure, With

When She Had Passed, It Seemed Like The Ceasing Of Exquisite Music.

A Sermon Is No Sermon In Which I Cannot Hear The Heartbeat.

The Morrow Was A Bright September Morn; The Earth Was Beautiful As If Newborn; There Was Nameless Splendor Everywhere, That Wild Exhilaration In The Air, Which Makes The Passers In The City Street Congratulate Each Other As They Meet.

If We Could Read The Secret History Of Our Enemies.

History Casts Its Shadow Far Into The Land Of Song.