In Every Loving Woman There Is A

To Be Misunderstood Even By Those Whom One Loves Is The Cross And Bitterness Of Life. It Is The Secret Of That Sad And Melancholy Smile On The Lips Of Great Men Which So Few Understand.

To Understand Is To Possess The Thing Understood, First By Sympathy And Then By Intelligence.

Music Is Harmony, Harmony Is Perfection, Perfection Is Our Dream, And Our Dream Is Heaven.

Uncertainty Is The Refuge Of Hope.

Mother Of Marvels, Mysterious And Tender Nature, Why Do We Not Live More In Thee.