The ruins of time build mansions in eternity.

Sweet babe, in thy face Soft desires I can trace, Secret joys and secret smiles, Little pretty infant wiles.

And I made a rural pen, And I stained the water clear, And I wrote my happy songs Every Child may joy to hear.

The foundation of empire is art and science. Remove them or degrade them, and the empire is no more. Empire follows art and not vice versa as Englishmen suppose.

Energy is eternal delight.

For Mercy has a human heart Pity, a human face: And Love, the human form divine, And Peace, the human dress.

You become what you behold.