Love Is Cruel As The Grave.

Coleridge Cried; "o God, How Glorious It Is To Live!" Renan Asks, "o God, When Will It Be Worth While To Live?" In Nature We Echo The Poet; In The World We Echo The Thinker.

In A Few Generations More, There Will Probably Be No Room At All Allowed For Animals On The Earth: No Need Of Them, No Toleration Of Them. An Immense Agony Will Have Then Ceased, But With It There Will Also Have Passed Away The Last Smile Of The World's Youth.

One Must Pray First, But Afterwards One Must Help Oneself. God Does Not Care For Cowards.

Charity In Various Guises Is An Intruder The Poor See Often; But Courtesy And Delicacy Are Visitants With Which They Are Seldom Honored.

Most Crimes Are Sanctioned In Some Form Or Other When They Take Grand Names.