If You Desire Faith, Then You Have

The Beautiful Seems Right By Force Of Beauty And The Feeble Wrong Because Of Weakness.

Children Use The Fist Until They Are Of Age To Use The Brain.

I Begin To Think That None Are So Bold As The Timid, When They Are Fairly Roused.

Anybody Is Qualified, According To Everybody, For Giving Opinions Upon Poetry. It Is Not So In Chemistry And Mathematics. Nor Is It So, I Believe, In Whist And The Polka. But Then These Are More Serious Things.

"there Is No God," The Foolish Saith, But None, "there Is No Sorrow." And Nature Oft The Cry Of Faith In Bitter Need Will Borrow: Eyes Which The Preacher Could Not School, By Wayside Graves Are Raised; And Lips Say, "god Be Pitiful," Who Ne'er Said, "god Be Praised."