Naught But God Can Satisfy The Soul.

Evil Then Results From Imperfection.

We Live In Deeds, Not Years; In Thoughts, Not Figures On A Dial. We Should Count Time By Heart Throbs. He Most Lives Who Thinks Most, Feels The Noblest, Acts The Best.

And These Are Joys, Like Beauty, But Skin Deep.

Blest Is He Whose Heart Is The Home Of The Great Dead And Their Great Thoughts.

He Hath No Power That Hath Not Power To Use.