Life Is A Crucible. We Are Thrown

A Thousand Wheels Of Labor Are Turned By Dear Affections, And Kept In Motion By Self-sacrificing Endurance; And The Crowds That Pour Forth In The Morning And Return At Night Are Daily Procession Of Love And Duty.

The Essence Of Justice Is Mercy. Making A Child Suffer For Wrong-doing Is Merciful To The Child. There Is No Mercy In Letting The Child Have Its Own Will, Plunging Headlong To Destruction With The Bits In Its Mouth. There Is No Mercy To Society Nor To The Criminal If The Wrong Is Not Repressed And The Right Vindicated. We Injure The Culprit Who Comes Up To Take His Proper Doom At The Bar Of Justice, If We Do Not Make Him Feel That He Has Done A Wrong Thing. We May Deliver His Body From The Prison, But Not At The Expense Of Justice Nor To His Own Injury.

The Greatest Successes Grow Out Of Great Failures. In Numerous Instances The Result Is Better That Comes After A Series Of Abortive Experiences Than It Would Have Been If It Had Come At Once; For All These Successive Failures Induce A Skill Which Is So Much Additional Power Working Into The Final Achievement.... The Hand That Evokes Such Perfect Music From The Instrument Has Often Failed In Its Touch, And Bungled Among The Keys.... Every Disappointed Effort Fences In And Indicates The Only Possible Path Of Success, And Makes It Easier To Find.

The Productions Of The Press, Fast As Steam Can Make And Carry Them, Go Abroad Through All The Land, Silent As Snowflakes, But Potent As Thunder. It Is An Additional Tongue Of Steam And Lightning, By Which A Man Speaks His First Thought, His Instant Argument Or Grievance, To Millions In A Day.

An Aged Christian, With The Snow Of Time Upon His Head, May Remind Us That Those Points Of Earth Are Whitest Which Are Nearest To Heaven.