Art is the gift of God, and must be used unto His glory.

Out of the bosom of the Air, Out of the cloud-folds of her garments shaken, Over the woodlands brown and bare, Over the harvest-fields forsaken, Silent, and soft, and slow Descends the snow.

Truly, this world can go on without us, if we would but think so.

The mind of the scholar, if he would leave it large and liberal, should come in contact with other minds.

All your strength is in union, all your danger is in discord.

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

As Unto the bow the the cord is , So unto the man is woman; Though she bends him, she obeys him, Though she draws him , yet she follows: Useless each without the other.