For Those Who Love... Time Is Eternity.

Who Can Explain The Secret Pathos Of Nature's Loveliness? It Is A Touch Of Melancholy Inherited From Our Mother Eve. It Is An Unconscious Memory Of The Lost Paradise. It Is The Sense That Even If We Should Find Another Eden, We Would Not Be Fit To Enjoy It Perfectly Nor Stay In It Forever.

We Measure Success By Accumulation. The Measure Is False. The True Measure Is Appreciation. He Who Loves Most Has Most.

The Worlds In Which We Live At Heart Are One, The World "i Am," The Fruit Of "i Have Done"; And Underneath These Worlds Of Flower And Fruit, The World "i Love,"--the Only Living Root.

Hours Fly, Flowers Die: New Days, New Ways: Pass By! Love Stays.

If All The World Were Music, Our Hearts Would Often Long For One Sweet Strain Of Silence. To Break The Endless Song.