Great Sorrows Cannot Speak.

Now God Comes To Thee, Not As In The Dawning Of The Day, Not As In The Bud Of The Spring, But As The Sun At Noon To Illustrate All Shadows, As The Sheaves In Harvest, To Fill All Penuries, All Occasions Invite His Mercies, And All Times Are His Seasons.

But Think That We Are But Turned Aside To Sleep.

Festive Alcohol Sometimes Leads To An Excess Of Honesty.

Ask Not For Whom The Bell Tolls; It Tolls For Thee

Never Start With Tomorrow To Reach Eternity. Eternity Is Not Being Reached By Small Steps.