Sorrow And Silence Are Strong, And Patient

In Ourselves Are Triumph And Defeat.

How Wonderful Is The Human Voice! It Is Indeed The Organ Of The Soul. The Intellect Of Man Is Enthroned Visibly On His Forehead And In His Eye, And The Heart Of Man Is Written On His Countenance, But The Soul, The Soul Reveals Itself In The Voice Only.

Love Keeps The Cold Out Better Than A Cloak.

Our Ingress Into The World Was Naked And Bare; Our Progress Through The World Is Trouble And Care.

Even The Blackest Of Them All, The Crow, Renders Good Service As Your Man-at-arms, Crushing The Beetle In His Coat Of Mail. And Crying Havoc On The Slug And Snail.