Algebra Applies To The Clouds.

Creation Lives, Grows, And Multiplies; Man Is But A Witness.

Life Is The Flower For Which Love Is The Honey.

The Beautiful Has But One Type, The Ugly Has A Thousand.

Sometimes He Used A Spade In His Garden, And Sometimes He Read And Wrote. He Had But One Name For These Two Kinds Of Labor; He Called Them Gardening. ‘the Spirit Is A Garden,’ Said He

At A Certain Depth Of Distress, The Poor, In Their Stupor, Groan No Longer Over Evil, And Are No Longer Thankful For Good.