Vague Memories Hang About The

The Nature O' Things Doesn't Change, Though It Seems As If One's Own Life Was Nothing But Change.

That Is The Bitterest Of All,--to Wear The Yoke Of Our Own Wrong-doing.

What Is Opportunity To The Man Who Can't Use It? An Unfecundated Egg, Which The Waves Of Time Wash Away Into Nonentity.

We Must Find Our Duties In What Comes To Us, Not In What Might Have Been.

It's All One Web, Sir. The Prosperity Of The Country Is One Web.