So The Lover Must Struggle For Words.

I Was Too Slow A Mover To Be A Boxer. It Was Much Easier To Be A Poet.

The Lot Of Man Is Ceaseless Labor, Or Ceaseless Idleness, Which Is Still Harder.

We Fight For Lost Causes Because We Know That Our Defeat And Dismay May Be The Preface To Our Successors' Victory, Though That Victory Itself Will Be Temporary; We Fight Rather To Keep Something Alive Than In The Expectation That Anything Will Triumph.

The Church Must Be Forever Building, For It Is Forever Decaying Within And Attacked From Without.

Teach Us To Care And Not To Care