The Soul Knows No Persons.

Though Your Views Are In Straight Antagonism To Theirs, Assume An Identity Of Sentiment, Assume That You Are Saying Precisely Thatwhich All Think, And In The Flow Of Wit And Love Roll Out Your Paradoxes In Solid Column, With Not The Infirmity Of A Doubt.

Keep Cool: It Will Be All One A Hundred Years Hence.

A Man Should Learn To Detect And Watch That Gleam Of Light Which Flashes Across His Mind From Within, More Than The Luster Of The Firmament Of Bards And Sages

Everything Good Is On The Highway.

By The Rude Bridge That Arched The Flood, Their Flag To April's Breeze Unfurled, Here Once The Embattled Farmers Stood, And Fired The Shot Heard Round The World. The Foe Long Since In Silence Slept; Alike The Conqueror Silent Sleeps; And Time The Ruined Bridge Has Swept Down The Dark Stream Which Seaward Creeps. On This Green Bank, By This Soft Stream, We Set To-day A Votive Stone; That Memory May Their Deed Redeem, When, Like Our Sires, Our Sons Are Gone.