Without Courage There Cannot Be

Many Of Our Cares Are But A Morbid Way Of Looking At Our Privileges

We Build Statues Out Of Snow, And Weep To See Them Melt.

As Hope And Fear Alternate Chase Our Course Through Life's Uncertain Race.

The Time Which Passes Over Our Heads So Imperceptibly Makes The Same Gradual Change In Habits, Manners And Character, As In Personal Appearance. At The Revolution Of Every Five Years We Find Ourselves Another And Yet The Same;--there Is A Change Of Views, And No Less Of The Light In Which We Regard Them; A Change Of Motives As Well As Of Action.

Some Feelings Are To Mortals Given With Less Of Earth In Them Than Heaven.