The Sermon Which I Write Inquisitive Of

If The Tongue Had Not Been Framed For Articulation, Man Would Still Be A Beast In The Forest.

It Is My Desire, In The Office Of A Christian Minister, To Do Nothing Which I Cannot Do With My Whole Heart. Having Said This, I Have Said All.

We Live Amid Surfaces, And The True Art Of Life Is To Skate Well On Them

Every Promise Of The Soul Has Innumerable Fulfillments; Each Of Its Joys Ripens Into A New Want.

Our Eyes Are Holden That We Cannot See Things That Stare Us In The Face, Until The Hour Arrives When The Mind Is Ripened; Then We Behold Them, And The Time When We Saw Them Not Is Like A Dream.