It Was Not His Habit To Dwell

I Have One Great Fear In My Heart, That One Day When They Are Turned To Loving, They Will Find That We Are Turned To Hating.

One Thing Is About To Be Finished, But Here Is Something That Is Only Begun. And While I Live It Will Continue

And Were Your Back As Broad As Heaven, And Your Purse Full Of Gold, And Did Your Compassion Reach From Here To Hell Itself, There Is Nothing You Can Do.

The Tragedy Is Not That Things Are Broken. The Tragedy Is That Things Are Not Mended Again.

What Broke In A Man When He Could Bring Himself To Kill Another? What Broke When He Could Bring Himself To Thrust Down The Knife Into The Warm Flesh, To Bring Down The Axe On The Living Head, To Cleave Down Between The Seeing Eyes, To Shoot The Gun That Would Drive Death Into The Beating Heart?