Life Is The Gift Of God, And

There Is No Death! What Seems So Is Transition; This Life Of Mortal Breath Is But A Suburb Of The Life Elysian, Whose Portal We Call Death.

We Have Not Wings We Cannot Soar; But, We Have Feet To Scale And Climb, By Slow Degrees, By More And More, The Cloudy Summits Of Our Time.

Great Is The Art Of Beginning, But Greater Is The Art Of Ending.

Then Stars Arise, And The Night Is Holy.

Age Is Opportunity No Less Than Youth Itself.