The Only Way To Treat The Common

Breathes There A Man With Soul So Dead That It Does Not Glow At The Thought Of What The Men Of His Blood Have Done And Suffered To Make His Country What It Is? There Is Room, Plenty Of Room, For Proper Pride Of Land And Birth. What I Inveigh Against Is A Cursed Spirit Of Intolerance, Conceived In Distrust And Bred In Ignorance, That Makes The Mental Attitude Perennially Antagonistic, Even Bitterly Antagonistic, To Everything Foreign, That Subordinates Everywhere The Race To The Nation, Forgetting The Higher Claims Of Human Brotherhood.

Nothing Is Life Is More Wonderful Than Faith.

Happiness Lies In The Absorption In Some Vocation Which Satisfies The Soul.

No Dreams, No Visions, No Delicious Fantasies, No Castles In The Air, With Which, As The Old Song So Truly Says, Hearts Are Broken, Heads Are Turned.

No Human Being Is Constituted To Know The Truth, The Whole Truth And Nothing But The Truth; And Even The Best Of Men Must Be Content With Fragments, With Partial Glimpses, Never The Full Fruition.