When Time Is Spent, Eternity Begins.

Who Waits Until The Wind Shall Silent Keep Will Never Find The Ready Hour To Sow.

Next Time!' In What Calendar Are Kept The Records Of Those Next Times Which Never Come?

I Know The Lands Are Lit, With All The Autumn Blaze Of Goldenrod.

If I Could Write A Story That Would Do For The Indian One-hundredth Part What 'uncle Tom's Cabin' Did For The Negro, I Would Be Thankful The Rest Of My Life.

Motherhood Is Priced Of God, At Price No Man May Dare To Lessen Or Misunderstand.