I heard the bells on Christmas Day. Their old familiar carols play. And wild and sweet the words repeat. Of peace on earth goodwill to men.

Each morning sees some task begun, each evening sees it close; Something attempted, something done, has earned a night's repose.

Build today, then strong and sure, With a firm and ample base; And ascending and secure. Shall tomorrow find its place.

There is not grief that does not speak.

Well has it been said that there is no grief like the grief which does not speak.

A feeling of sadness and longing that is not akin to pain, and resembles sorrow only as the mist resembles the rain.

Joy, temperance, and repose, slam the door on the doctor's nose.

Ah, to build, to build! That is the noblest art of all the arts. Painting and sculpture are but images, are merely shadows cast by outward things on stone or canvas, having in themselves no separate existence. Architecture, existing in itself, and not in seeming a something it is not, surpasses them as substance shadow.

He that respects himself is safe from others; He wears a coat of mail that none can pierce. - Longfellow, Henry Wadsworth

Enjoy the Spring of Love and Youth, to some good angel leave the rest; For Time will teach thee soon the truth, there are no birds in last year's nest!