Ignorance Is A Cure For Nothing.

If There Is Anybody In This Land Who Thoroughly Believes That The Meek Shall Inherit The Earth They Have Not Often Let Their Presence Be Known.

A Man Does Not Look Behind The Door Unless He Has Stood There Himself

One Reads The Truer Deeper Facts Of Reconstruction With A Great Despair. It Is At Once So Simple And Human, And Yet So Futile. There Is No Villain, No Idiot, No Saint. There Are Just Men; Men Who Crave Ease And Power, Men Who Know Want And Hunger, Men Who Have Crawled. They All Dream And Strive With Ecstasy Of Fear And Strain Of Effort, Balked Of Hope And Hate. Yet The Rich World Is Wide Enough For All, Wants All, Needs All. So Slight A Gesture, A Word, Might Set The Strife In Order, Not With Full Content, But With Growing Dawn Of Fulfillment. Instead Roars The Crash Of Hell.

I Have Loved My Work, I Have Loved People And My Play, But Always I Have Been Uplifted By The Thought That What I Have Done Well Will Live Long And Justify My Life, That What I Have Done Ill Or Never Finished Can Now Be Handed On To Others For Endless Days To Be Finished, Perhaps Better Than I Could Have Done.

Little Of Beauty Has America Given The World Save The Rude Grandeur God Himself Stamped On Her Bosom; The Human Spirit In This New World Has Expressed Itself In Vigor And Ingenuity Rather Than In Beauty.