Speak But One Word To Me.

Give Me Love And Work - These Two Only.

There Was A Knight Came Riding By In Early Spring, When The Roads Were Dry; And He Heard That Lady Sing At The Noon, Two Red Roses Across The Moon.

Artists Cannot Help Themselves; They Are Driven To Create By Their Nature, But For That Nature To Truly Thrive, We Need To Preserve The Precious Habitat In Which That Beauty Can Flourish.

Love Is Enough: Though The World Be A-waning, And The Woods Have No Voice But The Voice Of Complaining.

We Are Only The Trustees For Those Who Come After Us.