I Mean To Make Myself A Man,

The World's History Is A Divine Poem, Of Which The History Of Every Nation Is A Canto, And Every Man A Word. Its Strains Have Been Pealing Along Down The Centuries, And Though There Have Been Mingled The Discords Of Warring Cannon And Dying Men, Yet To The Christian Philosopher And Historian - The Humble Listener - There Has Been A Divine Melody Running Through The Song Which Speaks Of Hope And Halcyon Days To Come.

Individuals May Wear For A Time The Glory Of Our Institutions, But They Carry It Not To The Grave With Them. Like Raindrops From Heaven, They May Pass Through The Circle Of The Shining Bow And Add To Its Luster; But When They Have Sunk In The Earth Again, The Proud Arch Still Spans The Sky And Shines Gloriously On.

I Must Do Something To Keep My Thoughts Fresh And Growing. I Dread Nothing So Much As Falling Into A Rut And Feeling Myself Becoming A Fossil.

It Would Convert The Treasury Of The United States Into A Manufactory Of Paper Money. It Makes The House Of Representatives And The Senate, Or The Caucus Of The Party Which Happens To Be In The Majority, The Absolute Dictator Of The Financial And Business Affairs Of This Country. This Scheme Surpasses All The Centralism And All The Caesarism That Were Ever Charged Upon The Republican Party In The Wildest Days Of The War Or In The Events Growing Out Of The War.

Great Ideas Travel Slowly, And For A Time Noiselessly, As The Gods Whose Feet Were Shod With Wool.