People Naturally Despise A Dependant.

The Wrecks Of Slavery Are Fast Growing A Fungus Crop Of Sentiment.

It Is The Still, Small Voice That The Soul Heeds, Not The Deafening Blasts Of Doom.

Lord, For The Erring Thought Not Unto Evil Wrought: Lord, For The Wicked Will Betrayed, And Baffled Still: For The Heart From Itself Kept, Our Thanksgiving Accept. For Ignorant Hopes That Were Broken To Our Blind Prayer: For Pain, Death, Sorrow, Sent Unto Our Chastisement: For All Loss Of Seeming Good, Quicken Our Gratitude.

By Beauty Of Course I Mean Truth, For The One Involves The Other; It Is Only The False In Art Which Is Ugly, And It Is Only The Ugly That Is Universal.

The Disposition To Give A Cup Of Cold Water To A Disciple Is A Far Nobler Property Than The Finest Intellect. Satan Has A Fine Intellect, But Not The Image Of God.