Is Not Light Grander Than Fire?

That Monstrous Tuberosity Of Civilised Life, The Capital Of England.

Blessed Is He Who Has Found His Work; Let Him Ask No Other Blessedness. He Has A Work, A Life-purpose; He Has Found It, And Will Follow It! How, As A Free-flowing Channel, Dug And Torn By Noble Force Through The Sour Mudswamp Of One's Existence, Like An Ever-deepening River There, It Runs And Flows

Blessed Is He Who Has Found His Work; Let Him Ask No Other Blessedness.

In Every Man's Writings, The Character Of The Writer Must Lie Recorded.

To Believe Practically That The Poor And Luckless Are Here Only As A Nusiance To Be Abraded And Abated, And In Some Permissable Manner Made Away With, And Swept Out Of Sight, Is Not An Amiable Faith.