The Yoke A Man Creates

Nature Repairs Her Ravages, But Not All. The Uptorn Trees Are Not Rooted Again; The Parted Hills Are Left Scarred; If There Is A New Growth, The Trees Are Not The Same As The Old, And The Hills Underneath Their Green Vesture Bear The Marks Of The Past Rending. To The Eyes That Have Dwelt On The Past, There Is No Thorough Repair.

We Want People To Feel With Us More Than To Act For Us.

The Light Can Be A Curtain As Well As The Darkness.

How Can One Ever Do Anything Nobly Christian, Living Among People With Such Petty Thoughts?

The Best Augury Of A Man's Success In His Profession Is That He Thinks It The Finest In The World.