I Protest Against Any Absolute Conclusion.

When We Are Dead : It Is The Living Only Who Cannot Be Forgiven The Living Only From Whom Men's Indulgence And Reverence Are Held Off, Like The Rain By The Hard East Wind .

One Has To Spend Many Years In Learning How To Be Happy.

The Intensest Form Of Hatred Is That Rooted In Fear.

The Men Are Mostly So Slow, Their Thoughts Overrun 'em, An' They Can Only Catch 'em By The Tail. I Can Count A Stocking-top While A Man's Getting's Tongue Ready; An' When He Outs Wi' His Speech At Last, There's Little Broth To Be Made On't. It's Your Dead Chicks Take The Longest Hatchin'.

Subtract From The New Testament The Miraculous And Highly Impossible, And What Will Be The Remainder?