A Mother Is A Mother Still, The

...in Consequence Of The Film Of Familiarity And Selfish Solicitude, We Have Eyes Yet See Not, Ears That Hear Not, And Hearts That Neither Feel Nor Understand.

A Grief Without A Pang, Void, Dark And Drear, A Drowsy, Stifled, Unimpassioned Grief, Which Finds No Natural Outlet Or Relief, In Word, Or Sigh, Or Tear.

An Undevout Poet Is An Impossibility.

Readers May Be Divided Into Four Classes: 1) Sponges, Who Absorb All That They Read And Return It In Nearly The Same State, Only A Little Dirtied. 2) Sand-glasses, Who Retain Nothing And Are Content To Get Through A Book For The Sake Of Getting Through The Time. 3) Strain-bags, Who Retain Merely The Dregs Of What They Read. 4) Mogul Diamonds, Equally Rare And Valuable, Who Profit By What They Read, And Enable Others To Profit By It Also

Not One Man In A Thousand Has Either Strength Of Mind Or Goodness Of Heart To Be An Atheist. I Repeat It. Not One Man In A Thousand Has Either Strength Of Mind Or Goodness Of Heart To Be An Atheist.