The thoughts of Youth are long, long thoughts
Art is the child of nature in whom we trace the features of the mothers face.
Yes, we must ever be friends; and of all who offer you friendship Let me be ever the first, the truest, the nearest and dearest.
Our faith triumphant o'er our fears.
Look, then, into thine heart, and write!
O beautiful, awful summer day, what hast thou given, what taken away?