Welcome, My Old Friend, Welcome

Give What You Have. To Some One, It May Be Better Than You Dare To Think.

In The Elder Days Of Art Builders Wrought With Greatest Care Each Minute And Unseen Part, For The Gods Are Everywhere

The Country Is Not Priest-ridded, But Press-ridden.

The Lamps Are Lit, The Fires Burn Bright. The House Is Full Of Life And Light.

For It Is The Fate Of A Woman Long To Be Patient And Silent, To Wait Like A Ghost That Is Speechless, Till Some Questioning Voice Dissolves The Spell Of Its Silence. Hence Is The Inner Life Of So Many Suffering Women Sunless And Silent And Deep, Like Subterranean Rivers Runnng Through Caverns Of Darkness.