Thou Know'st How Fearless Is

Perhaps, From An Innate Desire Of Justification, Sorrow Always Exaggerates Itself. Memory Is Quite One Of Job's Friends; And The Past Is Ever Ready To Throw Its Added Darkness On The Present.

There Can Be Neither Politically Nor Morally A Good Which Is Not Universal ... We Cannot Reform For A Time Or For A Class, But For All And For The Whole, And Our Very Interests Will Draw Us Together In One Wide Bond Of Sympathy.

Toil Is The Portion Of Day, As Sleep Is That Of Night; But If There Be One Hour Of The Twenty-four Which Has The Life Of Day Without Its Labor, And The Rest Of Night Without Its Slumber, It Is The Lovely And Languid Hour Of Twilight.

Society Is Like A Large Piece Of Frozen Water; And Skating Well Is The Great Art Of Social Life.

Alas! We Give Our Own Coloring To The Actions Of Others.