Death, Is Not An End, But A

Public Feeling Now Is Apt To Side With The Persecuted, And Our Modern Martyr Is Full As Likely To Be Smothered With Roses As With Coals.

Whatever You Truly Conceive Of In The Mind, Is Possible.

I Know A Good Many People, I Think, Who Are Bigots, And Who Know They Are Bigots, And Are Sorry For It, But They Dare Not Be Anything Else.

It Is Those Who Make The Least Display Of Their Sorrow Who Mourn The Deepest.

There Is No Doubt Of The Essential Nobility Of That Man Who Pours Into Life The Honest Vigor Of His Toil, Over Those Who Compose The Feathery Foam Of Fashion That Sweeps Along Broadway; Who Consider The Insignia Of Honor To Consist In Wealth And Indolence; And Who, Ignoring The Family History, Paint Coats Of Arms To Cover Up The Leather Aprons Of Their Grandfathers.