The Heart, Like The Mind, Has A

For 'tis Sweet To Stammer One Letter Of The Eternal's Language; - On Earth It Is Called Forgiveness!

A Handful Of Red Sand From The Hot Clime Of Arab Deserts Brought, Within This Glass Becomes The Spy Of Time, The Minister Of Thought.

In The Long Run Men Hit Only What They Aim At.

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.

Let Us, Then, Be What We Are; Speak What We Think; And In All Things Keep Ourselves Loyal To Truth.