In My Unloveliness I Plunged Into The

O Sacrament Of Love! O Sign Of Unity! O Bond Of Charity! He Who Would Have Life Finds Here Indeed A Life To Live In And A Life To Live By.

Come Unto Me, All Ye That Labor And Are Heavy Laden.

Purity Of Soul Cannot Be Lost Without Consent.

When All Is Said And Done, Is There Any More Wonderful Sight, Any Moment When Man's Reason Is Nearer To Some Sort Of Contact With The Nature Of The World Than The Sowing Of Seeds, The Planting Of Cuttings, The Transplanting Of Shrubs Or The Grafting Of Slips?

Bad Company Is Like A Nail Driven Into A Post, Which, After The First And Second Blow, May Be Drawn Out With Little Difficulty; But Being Once Driven Up To The Head, The Pincers Cannot Take Hold To Draw It Out, But Which Can Only Be Done By The Destruction Of The Wood.