Wherever, In Any World, A Soul, By

The Man Who Goes Through Life With An Uncertain Doctrine Not Knowing What He Believes, What A Poor, Powerless Creature He Is! He Goes Around Through The World As A Man Goes Down Through The Street With A Poor, Wounded Arm, Forever Dodging People Be Meets On The Street For Fear They May Touch Him.

Character Cannot Be Made Except By A Steady, Long-continued Process.

The Trouble Is That I'm In A Hurry, But God Isn't.

The Lives Of Men Who Have Been Always Growing Are Strewed Along Their Whole Course With The Things They Have Learned To Do Without.

The Earth Has Grown Old With Its Burden Of Care, But At Christmas It Always Is Young.