Every Friend Is To The Other A

For The Infinite Has Sowed His Name In The Heavens In Burning Stars, But On The Earth He Has Sowed His Name In Tender Flowers.

It Is Not Great, But Little Good-haps That Make Up Happiness.

The Purer The Golden Vessel, The More Readily Is It Bent; The Higher Worth Of Woman Is Sooner Lost Than That Of Man.

Nations And Men Are Only The Best When They Are The Gladdest, And Deserve Heaven When They Enjoy It.

Each Departed Friend Is A Magnet That Attracts Us To The Next World.