I Am Only One, But Still I

For My Part, I Wish, With Mr. Howells, That The Literature Of The Past Might Be Purged Of All That Is Ugly And Barbarous In It, Although I Should Object As Much As Any One To Having These Great Works Weakened Or Falsified.

The Hands Of Those I Meet Are Dumbly Eloquent To Me. The Touch Of Some Hands Is An Impertinence. I Have Met People So Empty Of Joy, That When I Clasped Their Frosty Finger-tips, It Seemed As If I Were Shaking Hands With A Northeast Storm.

The Place Between Your Comfort Zone And Your Dream Is Where Life Takes Place.

The Clatter Of A Changing World Is Not Pleasant, And Those Who Have Enjoyed The Comforts And Protection Of The Old Order May Be Shocked And Unhappy When They Behold The Vigorous Young Builders Of A New World Sweeping Away Their Time-honored Antiquities.

Everything Has Its Wonders, Even Darkness And Silence, And I Learn, Whatever State I May Be In, Therein To Be Content.