Titles Are Too "thin" For The Nineteenth

There Is An Ugly Kind Of Forgiveness In This World,--a Kind Of Hedgehog Forgiveness, Shot Out Like Quills. Men Take One Who Has Offended, And Set Him Down Before The Blowpipe Of Their Indignation, And Scorch Him, And Burn His Fault Into Him; And When They Have Kneaded Him Sufficiently With Their Fiery Fists, Then--they Forgive Him.

What We Call Wisdom Is The Result Of All The Wisdom Of Past Ages. Our Best Institutions Are Like Young Trees Growing Upon The Roots Of The Old Trunks That Have Crumbled Away.

To Know That One Has A Secret Is To Know Half The Secret Itself.

Happy Is The Man Who Has That In His Soul Which Acts Upon The Dejected As April Airs Upon Violet Roots. Gifts From The Hand Are Silver And Gold, But The Heart Gives That Which Neither Silver Nor Gold Can Buy. To Be Full Of Goodness, Full Of Cheerfulness, Full Of Sympathy, Full Of Helpful Hope, Causes A Man To Carry Blessings Of Which He Is Himself As Unconscious As A Lamp Is Of Its Own Shining. Such A One Moves On Human Life As Stars Move On Dark Seas To Bewildered Mariners; As The Sun Wheels, Bringing All The Seasons With Him From The South.

The Methods By Which Men Have Met And Conquered Trouble, Or Been Slain By It, Are The Same In Every Age. Some Have Floated On The Sea, And Trouble Carried Them On Its Surface As The Sea Carries Cork. Some Have Sunk At Once To The Bottom As Foundering Ships Sink. Some Have Run Away From Their Own Thoughts. Some Have Coiled Themselves Up Into A Stoical Indifference. Some Have Braved The Trouble, And Defied It. Some Have Carried It As A Tree Does A Wound, Until By New Wood It Can Overgrow And Cover The Old Gash.