We Are Not Made For Law, We

Difficulty Adds To Result, As The Ramming Of Powder Sends The Bullet The Further.

There Are Women Who Fly Their Falcons At Any Game, Little Birds And All.

Well, Perhaps; But I Begin To Think There Are Better Things Than Being Comfortable.

But It Is Not The Rich Man Only Who Is Under The Dominion Of Things; They Too Are Slaves Who, Having No Money, Are Unhappy From The Lack Of It.

The Perfection Of His Relation To Us Swallows Up All Our Imperfections, All Our Defeats, All Our Evils; For Our Childhood Is Born Of His Fatherhood. That Man Is Perfect In Faith Who Can Come To God In The Utter Dearth Of His Feelings And His Desires, Without A Glow Or An Aspiration, With The Weight Of Low Thoughts, Failures, Neglects, And Wandering Forgetfulness, And Say To Him, “thou Art My Refuge, Because Thou Art My Home”.