And That Sweet City With Her Dreaming

Religion Is Ethics Heightened, Enkindled, Lit Up By Feeling

The Same Heart Beats In Every Human Breast.

All Pains The Immortal Spirit Must Endure, All Weakness That Impairs, All Griefs That Bow, Find Their Sole Voice In That Victorious Brow.

Know, Man Hath All Which Nature Hath, But More, And In That More Lie All His Hopes Of Good.

One Has Often Wondered Whether Upon The Whole Earth There Is Anything So Unintelligent, So Unapt To Perceive How The World Is Really Going, As An Ordinary Young Englishman Of Our Upper Class.