When nations grow old, the arts grow cold and commerce settles on every tree.

The apple tree never asks the beech how he shall grow, nor the lion the horse, how he shall take his prey.

Art is the tree of life. Science is the tree of death.

When I was warming up and it was windy and cold, it was more like a job, not going out to have fun playing tennis.

The arts of peace are great,And no less glorious than those of war.

Art is the tree of life. Science is the tree of death. God is Jesus.