It Is Not Enjoined Upon Us To

No Language Can Express The Power, And Beauty, And Heroism, And Majesty Of A Mother's Love. It Shrinks Not Where Man Cowers, And Grows Stronger Where Man Faints, And Over Wastes Of Worldly Fortunes Sends The Radiance Of Its Quenchless Fidelity Like A Star.

Life Itself Suggests A Higher Good Than Life Itself Can Yield.

He Who Today Utters A Bold Truth That Seems To Shock Some Old Institution With The Premonition Of Destruction, And That Scares Men From Their Propriety, Will A Hundred Years Hence Be Regarded As A Remarkably Conservative Man. And Yet The People Who Stand Peculiarly Upon What They Call The Foundations Of Conservatism, And Hold To Hard, Practical Facts, Now Stand Upon That Which One Hundred Years Ago Was Rank Heresy.

Pure Felicity Is Reserved For The Heavenly Life; It Grows Not In An Earthly Soil.

The Bosom Can Ache Beneath Diamond Brooches; And Many A Blithe Heart Dances Under Coarse Wool.