Her Lips Were Red, Her Looks Were

No Sound Is Dissonant Which Tells Of Life.

Either We Have An Immortal Soul, Or We Have Not. If We Have Not, We Are Beasts,--the First And The Wisest Of Beasts, It May Be, But Still True Beasts. We Shall Only Differ In Degree And Not In Kind,--just As The Elephant Differs From The Slug. But By The Concession Of The Materialists Of All The Schools, Or Almost All, We Are Not Of The Same Kind As Beasts, And This Also We Say From Our Own Consciousness. Therefore, Methinks, It Must Be The Possession Of The Soul Within Us That Makes The Difference.

A Bitter And Perplexed "what Shall I Do?" Is Worse To Man Than Worse Necessity.

Every Human Feeling Is Greater And Larger Than Its Exciting Cause-a Proof, I Think, That Man Is Designed For A Higher State Of Existence.

A Gothic Church Is A Petrified Religion.