A Word Once Vulgarized Can

Once To Every Man And Nation, Comes The Moment To Decide, In The Strife Of Truth With Falsehood, For The Good Or Evil Side; Some Great Cause, Some Great Decision, Offering Each The Bloom Or Blight, And The Choice Goes By Forever, ’twixt That Darkness And That Light.

We Cannot But Think There Is Something Like A Fallacy In Mr. Buckle's Theory That The Advance Of Mankind Is Necessarily In The Direction Of Science, And Not In That Of Morals.

Reading Chaucer Is Like Brushing Through The Dewy Grass At Sunrise.

There Is No Good In Arguing With The Inevitable. The Only Argument Available With An East Wind Is To Put On Your Overcoat.

To Be Young Is Surely The Best, If The Most Precarious, Gift Of Life.