We Are All Architects Of Faith, Ever

Gone Are The Living, But The Dead Remain, And Not Neglected; For A Hand Unseen, Scattering Its Bounty Like A Summer Rain, Still Keeps Their Graves And Their Remembrance Green.

Ah, Nothing Is Too Late, Till The Tired Heart Shall Cease To Palpitate.

A Torn Jacket Is Soon Mended; But Hard Words Bruise The Heart Of A Child.

Ne Speaketh Not; And Yet There Lies A Conversation In His Eyes.

Give What You Have. To Some One, It May Be Better Than You Dare To Think.