... When One's Outward Lot

There Is Heroism Even In The Circles Of Hell For Fellow-sinners Who Cling To Each Other In The Fiery Whirlwind And Never Recriminate.

Human Feeling Is Like The Mighty Rivers That Bless The Earth: It Does Not Wait For Beauty — It Flows With Resistless Force And Brings Beauty With It.

The Scornful Nostril And The High Head Gather Not The Odors That Lie On The Track Of Truth.

Our Words Have Wings, But Fly Not Where We Would.

If Art Does Not Enlarge Men's Sympathies, It Does Nothing Morally.