The Hand Which Moves Over The Dial

Great Buildings, Like Great Mountains, Are The Work Of Centuries.

Happiness Lies For Those Who Cry, Those Who Hurt, Those Who Have Searched, And Those Who Have Tried For Only They Can Appreciate The Importance Of People Who Have Touched Their Lives.

Our Life Dreams The Utopia. Our Death Achieves The Ideal.

Music Is The Vapor Of Art. It Is To Poetry What Reverie Is To Thought, What Fluid Is To Solid, What The Ocean Of Clouds Is To The Ocean Of Waves.

He Who Is Not Master Of His Own Thoughts Is Not Accountable For His Own Deeds.