Purposelessness Is The Fruitful Mother Of Crime.

Pity Is Not Enough Better Than Indifference To Benefit Materially Either Agent Or Recipient.

The Old Echoes Are Long In Dying.

Labor Is The Handmaid Of Religion.

There Is Always The Possibility Of Beauty Where There Is An Unsealed Human Eye; Of Music Where There Is An Unstopped Human Ear; And Of Inspiration Where There Is A Receptive Human Spirit.

Character Is, For The Most Part, Simply Habit Become Fixed.