If The Soul Is Left In Darkness,

Word Which The Finger Of God Has Written On The Brow Of Every Man — Hope!

Dear God! How Beauty Varies In Nature And Art. In A Woman The Flesh Must Be Like Marble; In A Statue The Marble Must Be Like Flesh.

The Ox Suffers, The Cart Complains.

God Created The Flirt As Soon As He Made The Fool.

Is There Not In Every Human Soul A Primitive Spark, A Divine Element, Incorruptible In This World And Immortal In The Next, Which Can Be Developed By Goodness, Kindled, Lit Up, And Made To Radiate, And Which Evil Can Never Entirely Extinguish.