Naught But God Can Satisfy The Soul.

Worthy Books Are Not Companions – They Are Solitudes: We Lose Ourselves In Them And All Our Cares.

Music Tells No Truths.

We Live In Deeds, Not Years; In Thoughts, Not Breaths; In Feelings, Not In Figures On A Dial.

The Course Of Nature Seems A Course Of Death, And Nothingness The Whole Substantial Thing.

It Matters Not How Long We Live But How.