The Wrecks Of Slavery Are Fast Growing

Out Of The Fragrant Heart Of Bloom, The Bobolinks Are Singing; Out Of The Fragrant Heart Of Bloom The Apple-tree Whispers To The Room, "why Art Thou But A Nest Of Gloom While The Bobolinks Are Singing?

The Conqueror Is Regarded With Awe; The Wise Man Commands Our Respect; But It Is Only The Benevolent Man That Wins Our Affection.

Primitive Societies Without Religion Have Never Been Found.

A Friend Knows How To Allow For Mere Quantity In Your Talk, And Only Replies To The Quality.

How Is It The Great Pieces Of Good Luck Fall To Us?