Music is the universal language of mankind.

Sunday is the golden clasp that binds together the volume of the week.

Take them, O Death! and bear away Whatever thou canst call thine own! Thine image, stamped upon this clay, Doth give thee that, but that alone!

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

Great is the art of beginning, but greater is the art of ending.

I venerate old age; and I love not the man who can look without emotion upon the sunset of life, when the dusk of evening begins to gather over the watery eye, and the shadows of twilight grow broader and deeper upon the understanding.

The morning pouring everywhere, its golden glory on the air.