“The mossy marbles rest
On the lips that he has prest
In their bloom;
And the names he loved to hear
Have been carved for many a year
On the tomb.”

“I judge a man according to the legacy he left. No big names and huge monuments. All I'm looking for are the seeds that have been left, are they blooming or everything has gone in vain?”

“To multitudes of sufferers on beds of pain and languishing, Jesus has been the great physician to-day; in many a weeping circle around precious dust, He has been the Divine comforter, and the tears have almost ceased to flow as this Jesus has touched the bier. Dying lips have whispered His name, and the valley of the shadow has been illumined as with the glory from the celestial shores.”

“Ah, no; the years, the years;
Down their carved names the raindrop plows.”

“For some we loved, the loveliest and the best
That from his Vintage rolling Time hath prest,
Have drunk their Cup a Round or two before,
And one by one crept silently to rest.”

“This twentieth century has been a period of terrific dynamism. Perhaps the last fifty years have seen more developments and more material progress than the previous five hundred years. Man has learned to control many of the scourges which once threatened him. He has learned to consume distance. He has learned to project his voice and his picture across oceans and continents. Lie has probed deep into the secrets of nature and learned how to make the desert bloom and the plants of the earth increase their bounty. He has learned how to release the immense forces locked in the smallest particles of matter.”

“It’s a combination of how many grand slams have you won, how many tournaments have you won, how many years you were number one, and he’s got all those combinations. The body of work is phenomenal and now he has got that French Open and I think he can just go on and sip Margaritas for the rest of his life.”

“Many a head that down had lain,
Impatient with its twelve hours' pain,
And wishing that the bed it prest,
Were, as the grave's, a long last rest,
Has sprung again at morning's call,
Forgiving, or forgetting all;
Lighting the weary weight of thought
With colours from the day-break brought,
Reading new promise in the sky,
And hearing Hope, the lark on high.”

“I saw the angel in the marble and carved until I set him free.”

“Human lips are now forbidden to utter His name, for being the only God, He needs no name.”