Place, Time, Life, Death, Earth, Heaven Are

They Frequently Find The Truth Who Do Not Seek It, They Who Do, Frequently Lose It.

In The North We Could Not Hope To Keep The Worst And Poorest Servant For A Single Day In The Wretched Discomfort In Which Our Negro Servants Are Forced Habitually To Live.

Children Are Made Of Eyes And Ears, And Nothing, However Minute, Escapes Their Microscopic Observation.

A Sacred Burden Is This Life Ye Bear, Look On It, Lift It, Bear It Solemnly, Stand Up And Walk Beneath It Steadfastly; Fail Not For Sorrow, Falter Not For Sin, But Onward, Upward, Till The Goal Ye Win.

Those That We Love Never Alter, Unless We Cease To Love Them.