Love And The Gentle Heart Are But

The Customs And Fashions Of Men Change Like Leaves On The Bough, Some Of Which Go And Others Come.

Nature Is The Art Of God.

Conscience, That Boon Companion Who Sets A Man Free Under The Strong Breastplate Of Innocence, That Bids Him On And Fear Not.

No Man May Be So Cursed By Priest Or Pope But What The Eternal Love May Still Return While Any Thread Of Green Lives On In Hope.

Mankind, Why Do Ye Set Your Hearts On Things That, Of Necessity, May Not Be Shared?