Eloquence May Set Fire To Reason.

Life Is A Fatal Complaint, And An Eminently Contagious One.

Our Dead Brothers And Sisters Still Live For Us And Bid Us Think Of Life, Not Death-of Life To Which In Their Youth They Lent The Passion And Glory Of Spring. As I Listen, The Great Chorus Of Life And Joy Begins Again, And Amid The Awful Orchestra Of Seen And Unseen Powers And Destinies Of Good And Evil, Our Trumpets Sound Once More A Note Of Daring, Hope, And Will.

Old Age Is Like An Opium Dream. Nothing Seems Real Except The Unreal.

The Life Of The Law Has Not Been Logic; It Has Been Experience.

Lord, Bid War's Trumpet Cease; Fold The Whole Earth In Peace.