It Is Not Poverty So Much As

If I Can, By A Lucky Chance, In These Uneasy Days, Rub Out One Wrinkle From The Brow Of Care, Or Beguile The Heavy Heart Of One Moment Of Sadness; If I Can, How And Then, Prompt A Happier View Of Human Nature, And Make My Reader More In Good Humor With His Fellow-beings And Himself, Surely, I Shall Not Have Written In Vain.

With Every Exertion, The Best Of Men Can Do But A Moderate Amount Of Good; But It Seems In The Power Of The Most Contemptible Individual To Do Incalculable Mischief.

One Point Is Certain, That Truth Is One And Immutable; Until The Jurors All Agree, They Cannot All Be Right.

I Am Always At A Loss At How Much To Believe Of My Own Stories.

There Is A Sacredness In Tears. They Are Not The Mark Of Weakness, But Of Power.