The Hand Which Moves Over The Dial

In My Old Age There Is A Coming Into Flower. My Body Wanes; My Mind Waxes.

What's Our Baggage? Only Vows, Happiness, And All Our Care, And The Flower That Sweetly Shows Nestling Lightly In Your Hair.

Be Like The Bird Who, Pausing In Her Flight Awhile On Boughs Too Slight, Feels Them Give Way Beneath Her, And Yet Sings, Knowing She Hath Wings.

To Be A Saint Is The Exception; To Be A Just Person Is The Rule. Err, Stumble, Commit Sin, But Be One Of The Just.

There Are Things Stronger Than The Strongest Man.