Glory To Women! They Weave And Entwine

Man Ever Talks, And Man Ever Dreams Of Better Days That Are Yet To Be, After Glittering Goal, That Distant Gleams, Running And Racing Untiringly. The Worldly May Grow Old And Young As It Will, But The Hope Of Man Is Improvement Still. Hope Bears Him Into Life In Her Arms, She Flutters Around The Boy's Young Bloom, The Soul Of Youth With Her Magic Warms, Nor Rests With Age In The Silent Tomb; For Ends Man His Weary Course At The Grave, There Plants He Hope O'er His Ashes To Wave.

He Who Has Done His Best For His Own Time Has Lived For All Times.

A Beautiful Soul Has No Other Merit Than Its Own Existence.

It Is Not The Mere Station Of Life That Stamps The Value On Us, But The Manner In Which We Act Our Part.

If You Would Attain To Your Highest, Go Look Upon A Flower;what The Flower Does Willessly, That Do Willingly.