Who Escapes A Duty, Avoids

Greatness Is Its Own Torment.

What A Joy Is There In A Good Book, Writ By Some Great Master Of Thought, Who Breaks Into Beauty As In Summer The Meadow Into Grass And Dandelions And Violets, With Geraniums And Manifold Sweetness.

The Miraculous Revelation Of The Old Testament And The New, The Miracles Of Famous Men, Jews, Gentiles, Or Christians, — Then Franklin Had No Religion At All; And It Would Be An Insult To Say That He Believed In The Popular Theology Of His Time, Or Of Ours, For I Find Not A Line From His Pen Indicating Any Such Belief.

Truth Stood On One Side And Ease On The Other; It Has Often Been So.

That Which Is Called Liberality Is Frequently Nothing More Than The Vanity Of Giving.