Death Opens Unknown Doors. It Is Most

Man Cannot Call The Brimming Instant Back; Time's An Affair Of Instants Spun To Days; If Man Must Make An Instant Gold, Or Black, Let Him, He May; But Time Must Go His Ways. Life May Be Duller For An Instant's Blaze. Life's An Affair Of Instants Spun To Years, Instants Are Only Cause Of All These Tears.

Men In A Ship Are Always Looking Up, And Men Ashore Are Usually Looking Down.

Oh Some Are Fond Of Spanish Wine, And Some Are Fond Of French.

God Dropped A Spark Down Into Everyone, And If We Find And Fan It To A Blaze, It'll Spring Up And Glow, Like--like The Sun, And Light The Wandering Out Of Stony Ways.

The Days That Make Us Happy Make Us Wise