If Men Had Wings And Bore Black

The Soul Is A Temple; And God Is Silently Building It By Night And By Day. Precious Thoughts Are Building It; Disinterested Love Is Building It; All-penetrating Faith Is Building It.

It Is For Men To Choose Whether They Will Govern Themselves Or Be Governed.

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.

No Man Rides So High And In Such Good Company As The Man That Allies Himself To A Truth.

Books Are The Windows Through Which The Soul Looks Out.