A Friendship Counting Nearly Forty Years Is

The Time Is Ripe, And Rotten-ripe, For Change.

Who's Not Sat Tense Before His Own Heart's Curtain.

O Thou, Whose Days Are Yet All Spring, Faith, Blighted Once, Is Past Retrieving; Experience Is A Dumb, Dead Thing; The Victory's In Believing.

A Great Part Of Human Suffering Has Its Root In The Nature Of Man, And Not In That Of His Institutions.

I Don't Believe In Principle, But I Do In Interest.