I Know No Other Sign Of Superiority

In Praise Of Thy Goodness I Must Confess That Thou Didst Try With All Thy Means To Draw Me To Thee. Sometimes It Pleased Thee To Let Me Feel The Heavy Hand Of Thy Displeasure And To Humiliate My Proud Heart By Manifold Castigations. Sickness And Misfortune Didst Thou Send Upon Me To Turn My Thoughts To My Errantries.-one Thing, Only, O Father, Do I Ask: Cease Not To Labor For My Betterment. In Whatsoever Manner It Be, Let Me Turn To Thee And Become Fruitful In Good Works.

After Rossini Dies, Who Will Be There To Promote His Music?

From The Glow Of Enthusiasm I Let The Melody Escape.

I Love A Tree More Than A Man.

Fate Gave To Man The Courage Of Endurance.