Nothing Is So Beautiful As Spring- When

By The By, If The English Race Had Done Nothing Else, Yet If They Left The World The Notion Of A Gentleman, They Would Have Done A Great Service To Mankind.

No Wonder Of It: Sheer Plod Makes Plough Down Sillion Shine, And Blue-bleak Embers, Ah My Dear, Fall, Gall Themselves, And Gash Gold-vermilion.

The Best Ideal Is The True And Other Truth Is None. All Glory Be Ascribed To The Holy Three In One.

It Seems Then That It Is Not The Excellence Of Any Two Things (or More) In Themselves, But Those Two Things As Viewed By The Light Of Each Other, That Makes Beauty.

I Do Not Think I Have Ever Seen Anything More Beautiful Than The Bluebell I Have Been Looking At. I Know The Beauty Of Our Lord By It.