Look Not Mournfully Into The Past. It

For It Is The Fate Of A Woman Long To Be Patient And Silent, To Wait Like A Ghost That Is Speechless, Till Some Questioning Voice Dissolves The Spell Of Its Silence. Hence Is The Inner Life Of So Many Suffering Women Sunless And Silent And Deep, Like Subterranean Rivers Runnng Through Caverns Of Darkness.

Every Human Heart Is Human.

Dost Thou Know What A Hero Is? Why, A Hero Is As Much As One Should Say, A Hero.

The Great Tragedy Of The Average Man Is That He Goes To His Grave With His Music Still In Him.

The Things That Have Been And Shall Be No More, The Things That Are, And That Hereafter Shall Be, The Things That Might Have Been, And Yet Were Not, The Fading Twilight Of Joys Departed.