The counterfeit and counterpart of Nature is reproduced in art.

The greatest grace of a gift, perhaps, is that it anticipates and admits of no return.

Each morning sees some task begun, each evening sees it close; Something attempted, something done, has earned a night's repose.

All sense of hearing and of sight enfold in the serene delight and quietude of sleep.

Often times we call a man [or woman] cold when he [or she] is only sad.

It is autumn; not without But within me is the cold. Youth and spring are all about; It is I that have grown old.

Let us labor for an inward stillness-- An inward stillness and an inward healing. That perfect silence where the lips and heart Are still, and we no longer entertain Our own imperfect thoughts and vain opinions, But God alone speaks to us and we wait In singleness of heart that we may know His will, and in the silence of our spirits, That we may do His will and do that only