Coming To The Bible Through Commentaries Is

The Methods By Which Men Have Met And Conquered Trouble, Or Been Slain By It, Are The Same In Every Age. Some Have Floated On The Sea, And Trouble Carried Them On Its Surface As The Sea Carries Cork. Some Have Sunk At Once To The Bottom As Foundering Ships Sink. Some Have Run Away From Their Own Thoughts. Some Have Coiled Themselves Up Into A Stoical Indifference. Some Have Braved The Trouble, And Defied It. Some Have Carried It As A Tree Does A Wound, Until By New Wood It Can Overgrow And Cover The Old Gash.

All Our Other Faculties Seem To Have The Brown Touch Of Earth Upon Them, But The Imagination Carries The Very Livery Of Heaven, And Is God's Self In The Soul.

In The Sacred Precinct Of That Dwelling Where The Despotic Woman Wields The Sceptre Of Fierce Neatness, One Treads As If He Carried His Life In His Hands.

There Is An Ugly Kind Of Forgiveness In This World,--a Kind Of Hedgehog Forgiveness, Shot Out Like Quills. Men Take One Who Has Offended, And Set Him Down Before The Blowpipe Of Their Indignation, And Scorch Him, And Burn His Fault Into Him; And When They Have Kneaded Him Sufficiently With Their Fiery Fists, Then--they Forgive Him.

There Is Not A Heart But Has Its Moments Of Longing, Yearning For Something Better; Nobler; Holier Than It Knows Now.