I Flutter All Ways, And Fly In

There's Things To Put Up Wi' In Ivery Place, An' You May Change An' Change An' Not Better Yourself When All's Said An' Done.

Hurt, He'll Never Be Hurt--he's Made To Hurt Other People.

Worldly Faces Never Look So Worldly As At A Funeral.

For Pain Must Enter Into Its Glorified Life Of Memory Before It Can Turn Into Compassion.

These Fellow-mortals, Every One, Must Be Accepted As They Are: You Can Neither Straighten Their Noses, Nor Brighten Their Wit, Nor Rectify Their Dispositions; And It Is These People-amongst Whom Your Life Is Passed-that It Is Needful You Should Tolerate, Pity, And Love: It Is These More Or Less Ugly, Stupid, Inconsistent People Whose Movements Of Goodness You Should Be Able To Admire-for Whom You Should Cherish All Possible Hopes, All Possible Patience.