I Do Not Want Merely To Possess

[a]ll The Ingenious Men, And All The Scientific Men, And All The Fanciful Men, In The World,... Could Never Invent, If All Their Wits Were Boiled Into One, Anything So Curious And So Ridiculous As A Lobster.

And What Is The Joy Of Christ? The Joy And Delight Which Springs Forever In His Great Heart, From Feeling That He Is Forever Doing Good; From Loving All, And Living For All; From Knowing That If Not All, Yet Millions On Millions Are Grateful To Him, And Will Be Forever.

I Do Not Want Merely To Possess A Faith, I Want A Faith That Possesses Me.

In The Four Hundred And Thirteenth Year Of The Christian Era, Some Three Hundred Miles Above Alexandria, The Young Monk Philammon Was Sitting On The Edge Of A Low Range Of Inland Cliffs, Crested With Drifting Sand.

Better Is Old Wine Than New, And Old Friends Like-wise.