The Root Of Joy, As Of Duty,

The Only Condition Of Peace In This World Is To Have No Ideas, Or, At Least Not To Express Them.

Pretty Much All The Honest Truth-telling There Is In The World Is Done By Children.

The Worst Of A Modern Stylish Mansion Is That It Has No Place For Ghosts.

Life, Not The Parson, Teaches Conduct.

Our Dead Brothers And Sisters Still Live For Us And Bid Us Think Of Life, Not Death-of Life To Which In Their Youth They Lent The Passion And Glory Of Spring. As I Listen, The Great Chorus Of Life And Joy Begins Again, And Amid The Awful Orchestra Of Seen And Unseen Powers And Destinies Of Good And Evil, Our Trumpets Sound Once More A Note Of Daring, Hope, And Will.