It Opens The Lungs, Washes The Countenance,

Heaven Knows We Need Never Be Ashamed Of Our Tears, For They Are Rain Upon The Blinding Dust Of Earth, Overlying Our Hard Hearts. I Was Better After I Had Cried, Than Before--more Sorry, More Aware Of My Own Ingratitude, More Gentle.

I Had Seen The Damp Lying On The Outside Of My Little Window, As If Some Goblin Had Been Crying There All Night, And Using The Window For A Pocket-handkerchief.

What Are The Odds So Long As The Fire Of The Soul Is Kindled At The Taper Of Conviviality, And The Wing Of Friendship Never Molts A Feather?

Mr Jarndyce, And Prevented His Going Any Farther, When He Had Remarked That There Were Two Classes Of Charitable People: One, The People Who Did A Little And Made A Great Deal Of Noise; The Other, The People Who Did A Great Deal And Made No Noise At All.

Be Guided, Only By The Healer Of The Sick, The Raiser Of The Dead, The Friend Of All Who Were Afflicted And Forlorn, The Patient Master Who Shed Tears Of Compassion For Our Infirmities. We Cannot But Be Right If We Put All The Rest Away, And Do Everything In Remembrance Of Him. There Is No Vengeance And No Infliction Of Suffering In His Life, I Am Sure. There Can Be No Confusion In Following Him, And Seeking For No Other Footsteps, I Am Certain!