Progress Is The Life-style Of Man.

God Secludes Himself; But The Thinker Listens At The Door.

A Mother's Arms Are Made Of Tenderness And Children Sleep Soundly In Them.

There Is A Secret Drawer In Every Woman's Heart.

People Do Not Lack Strength; They Lack Will.

Nothing Can Be Sadder Or More Profound Than To See A Thousand Things For The First And Last Time. To Journey Is To Be Born And Die Each Minute...all The Elements Of Life Are In Constant Flight From Us, With Darkness And Clarity Intermingled, The Vision And The Eclipse; We Look And Hasten, Reaching Out Our Hands To Clutch; Every Happening Is A Bend In The Road...and Suddenly We Have Grown Old. We Have A Sense Of Shock And Gathering Darkness; Ahead Is A Black Doorway; The Life That Bore Us Is A Flagging Horse, And A Veiled Stranger Is Waiting In The Shadows To Unharness Us.