When Nations Grow Old The Arts Grow

Father, O Father! What Do We Here In This Land Of Unbelief And Fear?

The Modest Rose Puts Forth A Thorn,the Humble Sheep A Threat'ning Horn:while The Lily White Shall In Love Delight,nor A Thorn Nor A Threat Stain Her Beauty Bright.

To Create A Little Flower Is The Labour Of Ages.

Knowledge Of Ideal Beauty Is Not To Be Acquired. It Is Born With Us. Innate Ideas Are In Every Man, Born With Him; Theyare Truly Himself.

I'm Sure This Jesus Will Not Do Either For Englishman Or Jew.