Peace Is In The Grave.

Until The Mind Can Love, And Admire, And Trust, And Hope, And Endure, Reasoned Principles Of Moral Conduct Are Seeds Cast Upon The Highway Of Life Which The Unconscious Passenger Tramples Into Dust.

Worse Than A Bloody Hand Is A Hard Heart.

Cold Hopes Swarm Like Worms Within Our Living Clay.

A Pard-like Spirit, Beautiful And Swift.

The Breath Of Accusation Kills An Innocent Name, And Leaves For Lame Acquittal The Poor Life, Which Is A Mask Without It.