Look Upon The Errors Of Others In

What Is Time? The Shadow On The Dial, The Striking Of The Clock, The Running Of The Sand, Day And Night, Summer And Winter, Months, Years, Centuries-these Are But Arbitrary And Outward Signs, The Measure Of Time, Not Time Itself. Time Is The Life Of The Soul.

Sweet Is The Air With The Budding Haws, And The Valley Stretching For Miles Below Is White With Blossoming Cherry-trees, As If Just Covered With Lighted Snow.

My Soul Is Full Of Longing For The Secret Of The Sea

The Life Of A Man Consists Not In Seeing Visions And In Dreaming Dreams, But In Active Charity And In Willing Service.

The Air Is Full Of Farewells To The Dying. And Mournings For The Dead.