Pure By Impure Is Not Seen.

Reality Is A Sliding Door.

It Is The Quality Of The Moment, Not The Number Of Days, Or Events, Or Of Actors, That Imports.

It Is Not Length Of Life, But Depth Of Life.

A Garden Is Like Those Pernicious Machineries Which Catch A Man's Coat-skirt Or His Hand, And Draw In His Arm, His Leg , And His Whole Body To Irresistible Destruction.

It Is Never Too Late To Do Right.