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

I love thee, as the good love heaven.

All things are symbols.

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

O suffering, sad humanity! O ye afflicted ones, who lie Steeped to the lips in misery, Longing, yet afraid to die, Patient, though sorely tried!

There is nothing perfectly secure but poverty.

The dawn is not distant, nor is the night starless; love is eternal.