The story, from beginning to end, I found again in a heart of a friend.

These stars of earth, these golden flowers.

The heights by great men reached and kept were not attained by sudden flight, but they, while their companions slept, were toiling upward in the night.

Youth comes but once a life time. Perhaps, but it remains strong in many for their entire lives.

I heard the bells on Christmas Day Their old, familiar carols play, And wild and sweet The words repeat Of peace on earth, good-will to men!

Life is the gift of God, and is divine.

We waste our best years in distilling the sweetest flowers of life into potions which, after all, do not immortalize, but only intoxicate.