We Forge The Chains We Wear In

In This Way They Went On, And On, And On-in The Language Of The Story-books-until At Last The Village Lights Appeared Before Them, And The Church Spire Cast A Long Reflection On The Graveyard Grass; As If It Were A Dial (alas, The Truest In The World!) Marking, Whatever Light Shone Out Of Heaven, The Flight Of Days And Weeks And Years, By Some New Shadow On That Solemn Ground.

Nothing Is Discovered Without God's Intention And Assistance, And I Suppose Every New Knowledge Of His Works That Is Conceded To Man To Be Distinctly A Revelation By Which Men Are To Guide Themselves.

Lawyers Are Shy Of Meddling With The Law On Their Own Account: Knowing It To Be An Edged Tool Of Uncertain Application, Very Expensive In The Working, And Rather Remarkable For Its Properties Of Close Shaving Than For Its Always Shaving The Right Person.

What Are The Odds So Long As The Fire Of The Soul Is Kindled At The Taper Of Conviviality, And The Wing Of Friendship Never Molts A Feather?

We Must Leave The Discovery Of This Mystery, Like All Others, To Time, And Accident, And Heaven's Pleasure.