“When Christ was about to leave the world, He made His will. His soul He committed to His father; His body He bequeathed to Joseph to be decently interred; His clothes fell to the soldiers; His mother He left to the care of John; but what should He leave to His poor disciples that had left all for Him? Silver and gold He had none; but He left them that which was infinitely better, His peace.” WorldShouldMadeSoulBodyCareMotherFatherLeftPeaceChristPoorClothesGoldSoldierCommittedSilverDisciple Book:Bible commentary - Gospel of John Source: Bible commentary - Gospel of John
“I thought of my father's wisdom, as though it were buried in a box under a tree. As in the old song - a gold box with a silver pin. Some day I should be grown up, and I should dig up the box and turn the pin.” ShouldSongTurnsFatherTreeGoldBoxesSilverBuriedAdulthoodPinsOld Song Author:Mary Butts
“In their censures of luxury the fathers are extremely minute and circumstantial; and among the various articles which excite their pious indignation, we may enumerate false hair, garments of any colour except white, instruments of music, vases of gold or silver, downy pillows, white bread, foreign wines, public salutations, the use of warm baths, and the practice of shaving the beard, which, according to Tertullian, is a lie against our own faces, and am impious attempt to improve the works of the Creator.” MayUseFacesLyingFatherWhitePracticeHistoryMinutesHairGoldInstrumentsWineVariousCreatorWarmBreadLuxuryColourSilverArticlesBathsBeardPillowGarmentsPiousRoman EmpireIndignationCensureShavingVasesSalutationsWhite Bread Book:The History of the Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire Source: The History of the Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire
“Sweet and low, sweet and low, Wind of the western sea, Low, low, breathe and blow, Wind of the western sea! Over the rolling waters go, Come from the dying moon, and blow, Blow him again to me; While my little one, while my pretty one, sleeps. Sleep and rest, sleep and rest, Father will come to thee soon; Rest, rest, on mother's breast, Father will come to thee soon; Father will come to his babe in the nest, Silver sails all out of the west Under the silver moon: Sleep, my little one, sleep, my pretty one, sleep.” LittlesMotherFatherWaterSleepSeaDyingSweetWindMoonLowsWestWesternBlowBreatheTheeBreastsSilverRollingSailNestsBabe Author:Alfred Lord Tennyson