How Is It The Great Pieces Of

Christ And The Life Of Christ Is At This Moment Inspiring The Literature Of The World As Never Before, And Raising It Up A Witness Against Waste And Want And War. It May Confess Him, As In Tolstoi's Work It Does, Or It May Deny Him, But It Cannot Exclude Him; And In The Degree That It Ignores His Spirit, Modern Literature Is Artistically Inferior. In Other Words, All Good Literature Is Now Christmas Literature.

I Know, Indeed, Of Nothing More Subtly Satisfying And Cheering Than A Knowledge Of The Real Good Will And Appreciation Of Others. Such Happiness Does Not Come With Money, Nor Does It Flow From Fine Physical State. It Cannot Be Brought. But It Is The Keenest Joy, After All; And The Toiler's Truest And Best Reward.

I Wonder Why We Hate The Past So.

In Europe Life Is Histrionic And Dramatized, And In America, Except When It Is Trying To Be European, It Is Direct And Sincere.

A Friend Knows How To Allow For Mere Quantity In Your Talk, And Only Replies To The Quality.