In The Elder Days Of Art Builders

And As She Looked Around, She Saw How Death The Consoler, Laying His Hand Upon Many A Heart, Had Healed It Forever.

Hope Has As Many Lives As A Cat Or A King.

Not Enjoyment, And Not Sorrow, Is Our Destined End Or Way; But To Act, That Each Tomorrow Find Us Farther Than Today.

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

A Spirit Of Criticism, If Indulged In, Leads To A Censoriousness Of Disposition That Is Destructive Of All Nobler Feeling. The Man Who Lives To Find Faults Has A Miserable Mission.