Children Are The Hands By Which We

Flowers May Beckon Todwards Us, But They Speak Todward Heaven And God.

Young Love Is A Flame; Very Pretty, Often Very Hot And Fierce, But Still Only Light And Flickering. The Love Of The Older And Disciplined Heart Is As Coals, Deep-burning, Unquenchable.

That Which Distinguishes Man From The Brute Is His Power, In Dealing With Nature, To Milk Her Laws, And Make Them Give Forth Their Bounty.

I Will Not Say It Is Not Christian To Make Beads Of Others Faults, And Tell Them Over Every Day; I Say It Is Infernal. If You Want To Know How The Devil Feels, You Do Know, If You Are Such An One.

Everyone Has Conscience Enough To Hate; Few Have Religion Enough To Love.