Nothing Dies So Hard, Or Rallies So

Sharp Men, Like Sharp Needles, Break Easy, Though They Pierce Quick.

They Who Refuse Education To A Black Man Would Turn The South Into A Vast Poorhouse, And Labor Into A Pendulum, Necessity Vibrating Between Poverty And Indolence.

A Man's Religion Is Himself. If He Is Right-minded Toward God, He Is Religious; If The Lord Jesus Christ Is His Schoolmaster, Then He Is Christianly Religious.

To The Great Tree-loving Fraternity We Belong. We Love Trees With Universal And Unfeigned Love, And All Things That Do Grow Under Them Or Around Them - The Whole Leaf And Root Tribe. Not Alone When They Are In Their Glory, But In Whatever State They Are - In Leaf, Or Rimed With Frost, Or Powdered With Snow, Or Crystal-sheathed In Ice, Or In Severe Outline Stripped And Bare Against A November Sky - We Love Them.

We Have The Promises Of God As Thick As Daisies In Summer Meadows, That Death, Which Men Most Fear, Shall Be To Us The Most Blessed Of Experiences, If We Trust In Him. Death Is Unclasping; Joy, Breaking Out In The Desert; The Heart, Come To Its Blossoming Time! Do We Call It Dying When The Bud Bursts Into Flower?