War May Be An Armed Angel With

The Only Hero Known To My Childhood Was Henry Clay.

War May Be An Armed Angel With A Mission, But She Has The Personal Habits Of The Slums.

You Will Find The Poet Who Wrings The Heart Of The World, Or The Foremost Captain Of His Time, Driving A Bargain Or Paring A Potato, Just As You Would Do.

Reform Is Born Of Need, Not Pity. No Vital Movement Of The People Has Worked Down, For Good Or Evil; Fermented, Instead, Carried Up The Heaving, Cloggy Mass.

Nowhere In This Country, From Sea To Sea, Does Nature Comfort Us With Such Assurance Of Plenty, Such Rich And Tranquil Beauty As In Those Unsung, Unpainted Hills Of Pennsylvania.