Among the noblest in the land - Though man may count himself the least - That man I honor and revere, Who without favor, without fear, In the great city dares to stand, The friend of every friendless beast.

The story, from beginning to end, I found again in a heart of a friend.

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

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!

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

Behind the clouds is the sun still shining.

The soul...is audible, not visible.