Joys Are Our Wings, Sorrows Our Spurs.

Despair Is The Only Genuine Atheism.

Man Has Here Two And A Half Minutes-one To Smile, One To Sigh, And A Half To Love: For In The Midst Of This Minute He Dies.

Gray Hairs Seem To My Fancy Like The Soft Light Of The Moon, Silvering Over The Evening Of Life.

Our Birthdays Are Feathers In The Broad Wing Of Time.

Strong Characters Are Brought Out By Change Of Situation, And Gentle Ones By Permanence.