Even He that died for us upon the cross, in the last hour, in the unutterable agony of death, was mindful of His mother, as if to teach us that this holy love should be our last worldly thought - the last point of earth from which the soul should take its flight for heaven.

Behind the clouds is the sun still shining.

And all the air is filled with pleasant noise of waters

From labor there shall come forth rest.

Therefore trust to thy heart, and to what the world calls illusions.

Art is the child of nature in whom we trace the features of the mothers face.

The setting of a great hope is like the setting of the sun. The brightness of our life is gone.