The Ignorant Classes Are The Dangerous Classes.

Scepticism Is A Barren Coast, Without A Harbor Or Lighthouse.

It Is The End Of Art To Inoculate Men With The Love Of Nature.

When Our Children Die, We Drop Them Into The Unknown, Shuddering With Fear. We Know That They Go Out From Us, And We Stand, And Pity, And Wonder. If We Receive News, That A Hundred Thousand Dollars Had Been Left Them By Some One Dying, We Should Be Thrown Into An Ecstasy Of Rejoicing; But When They Have Gone Home To God, We Stand, And Mourn, And Pine, And Wonder At The Mystery Of Providence.

There Is Not A Person We Employ Who Does Not, Like Ourselves, Desire Recognition, Praise, Gentleness, Forbearance, Patience.

A Love Of Flowers Would Beget Early Rising, Industry, Habits Of Close Observation, And Of Reading. It Would Incline The Mind To Notice Natural Phenomena, And To Reason Upon Them. It Would Occupy The Mind With Pure Thoughts, And Inspire A Sweet And Gentle Enthusiasm; Maintain Simplicity Of Taste; And ... Unfold In The Heart An Enlarged, Unstraightened, Ardent Piety.