Not Failure, But Low Aim, Is Crime.

Talent Is That Which Is In A Man's Power; Genius Is That In Whose Power A Man Is.

We Cannot But Think There Is Something Like A Fallacy In Mr. Buckle's Theory That The Advance Of Mankind Is Necessarily In The Direction Of Science, And Not In That Of Morals.

Large Charity Doth Never Soil, But Only Whitens Soft White Hands.

I Love Her With A Love As Still As A Broad River's Peaceful Might, Which By High Tower And Lowly Mill, Goes Wandering At Its Own Will, And Yet Does Ever Flow Aright.

The Time Is Ripe, And Rotten-ripe, For Change.