Early violets blue and white Dying for their love of light.
No power on earth compares to a mother's tender prayers.
Within yourself deliverance must be searched for, because each man makes hiw own prison.
A little rain will fill The lily's cup which hardly moistens the field.
Not a piece of architecture, as other buildings are, but the proud passions of an emperor's love wrought in living stones.
Like threads of silver seen through crystal beads Let love through good deeds show.