Through Woods And Mountain Passes The Winds,

No Literature Is Complete Until The Language It Was Written In Is Dead.

God Sifted A Whole Nation That He Might Send Choice Grain Over Into This Wilderness.

In The Mouths Of Many Men Soft Words Are Like Roses That Soldiers Put Into The Muzzles Of Their Muskets On Holidays.

The Setting Of A Great Hope Is Like The Setting Of The Sun. The Brightness Of Our Life Is Gone.

Being All Fashioned Of The Self-same Dust, Let Us Be Merciful As Well As Just