Many a poem is marred by a superfluous verse.

Gone are the living, but the dead remain, And not neglected; for a hand unseen, Scattering its bounty like a summer rain, Still keeps their graves and their remembrance green.

Death is the chillness that precedes the dawn; We shudder for a moment, then awake In the broad sunshine of the other life.

We are all architects of faith, ever living in these walls of time.

When Christ ascended Triumphantly from star to star He left the gates of Heaven ajar.

Make not thyself the judge of any man.

Perseverance is a great element of success. If you only knock long enough and loud enough at the gate, you are sure to wake up somebody.