Defeat Is A School In Which Truth

We Not Only Live Among Men, But There Are Airy Hosts, Blessed Spectators, Sympathetic Lookers-on, That See And Know And Appreciate Our Thoughts And Feelings And Acts.

There Is Always Work, And Tools To Work Withal, For Those, Who Will.

There Are Some Men's Souls That Are So Thin, So Almost Destitute Of What Is The True Idea Of Soul, That Were Not The Guardian Angels So Keen-sighted, They Would Altogether Overlook Them.

When A Man Has No Longer Any Conception Of Excellence Above His Own, His Voyage Is Done, He Is Dead,--dead In Trespasses And Sin Of Blear-eyed Vanity.

The Mother's Heart Is The Child's Schoolroom.