Who Ne'er His Bread In Sorrow Ate,

Yes, We Must Ever Be Friends; And Of All Who Offer You Friendship Let Me Be Ever The First, The Truest, The Nearest And Dearest.

Great Men Stand Like Solitary Towers In The City Of God.

Ah, How Skillful Grows The Hand That Obeyeth Love's Command! It Is The Heart, And Not The Brain, That To The Highest Doth Attain, And He Who Followeth Love's Behest Far Excelleth All The Rest!

Wisely Improve The Present. It Is Thine.

Art Is The Child Of Nature.