Reform Judaism Is Like Mock

In Blissful Dream, In Silent Night, There Came To Me, With Magic Might, With Magic Might, My Own Sweet Love, Into My Little Room Above.

The Arrow Belongs Not To The Archer When It Has Once Left The Bow; The Word No Longer Belongs To The Speaker When It Has Once Passed His Lips, Especially When It Has Been Multiplied By The Press.

In Politics, As In Life, We Must Above All Things Wish Only For The Attainable.

Talking And Eloquence Are Not The Same: To Speak And To Speak Well Are Two Things. A Fool May Talk, But A Wise Man Speaks.

The Cloudlets Are Lazily Sailing O'er The Blue Atlantic Sea; And Mid The Twilight There Hovers A Shadowy Figure O'er Me.