The Green Grass Floweth Like

In General Those Who Nothing Have To Say Contrive To Spend The Longest Time In Doing It.

Light Is The Symbol Of Truth.

The Realm Of Death Seems An Enemy's Country To Most Men, On Whose Shores They Are Loathly Driven By Stress Of Weather; To The Wise Man It Is The Desired Port Where He Moors His Bark Gladly, As In Some Quiet Haven Of The Fortunate Isles; It Is The Golden West Into Which His Sun Sinks, And, Sinking, Casts Back A Glory Upon The Leaden Cloud-tack Which Had Darkly Besieged His Day.

Pride And Weakness Are Siamese Twins.

Did Man E'er Live Saw Priest Or Woman Yet Forgive?