The Course Of Nature Seems A Course

Music Lives Within Thy Lips Like A Nightingale In Roses.

It Matters Not How Long We Live But How.

Any Heart Turned Godward Feels More Joyin One Short Hour Of Prayer, Than E'er Was Raisedby All The Feasts Of Earth Since Its Foundation.

Music Tells No Truths.

It Is Sad To See The Light Of Beauty Wane Away, Know Eyes Are Dimming, Bosoms Shrivelling, Feet Losing Their Springs, And Limbs Their Lily Roundness; But It Is Worse To Feel The Heart-spring Gone, To Lose Hope, Care Not For The Coming Thing, And Feel All Things Go To Decay Within Us.