How Beautiful The Silent Hour, When Morning

There's Nothing In This World So Sweet As Love. And Next To Love The Sweetest Thing Is Hate.

The Sky Is Filled With Stars, Invisible By Day.

Live Up To The Best That Is In You: Live Noble Lives, As You All May, In Whatever Condition You May Find Yourselves.

Sang In Tones Of Deep Emotion Songs Of Love And Songs Of Longing.

Some Critics Are Like Chimney-sweepers; They Put Out The Fire Below, And Frighten The Swallows From Their Nests Above; They Scrape A Long Time In The Chimney, Cover Themselves With Soot, And Bring Nothing Away But A Bag Of Cinders, And Then Sing From The Top Of The House As If They Had Built It.