Fine Manners Need The Support Of Fine

Beauty Is The Pilot Of The Young Soul.

It Does Not Hurt Weak Eyes To Look Into Beautiful Eyes Never So Long.

For Each Thorn, There's A Rosebud... For Each Twilight - A Dawn... For Each Trial - The Strength To Carry On, For Each Storm Cloud - A Rainbow... For Each Shadow - The Sun... For Each Parting - Sweet Memories When Sorrow Is Done.

The South-wind Brings Life, Sunshine And Desire, And On Every Mount And Meadow Breathes Aromatic Fire; But Over The Dead He Has No Power, The Lost, The Lost, He Cannot Restore; And, Looking Over The Hills, I Mourn The Darling Who Shall Not Return.

Nature Suffers Nothing To Remain In Her Kingdom Which Cannot Help Itself.