The course of my long life hath reached at last in fragile bark over a tempestuous sea the common harbor, where must rendered be account for all the actions of the past.

From dust thou art to dust returneth, was not spoken of the soul.

The greatest firmness is the greatest mercy.

Intelligence and courtesy not always are combined; Often in a wooden house a golden room we find.

Spake full well, in language quaint and olden, One who dwelleth by the castled Rhine, When he called the flowers, so blue and golden, Stars, that in earth's firmament do shine.

Into a world unknown,-the corner-stone of a nation!

For his heart was in his work, and the heart giveth grace unto every art.