We Are Rather Apt To Consider An

A Suppressed Resolve Will Betray Itself In The Eyes.

Our Deeds Are Fetters That We Forge Ourselves.

The Last Refuge Of Intolerance Is In Not Tolerating The Intolerant.

Art Is The Nearest Thing To Life; It Is A Mode Of Amplifying Experience And Extending Our Contact With Our Fellow Men Beyond The Bounds Of Our Personal Lot.

A Human Life, I Think, Should Be Well Rooted In Some Spot Of A Native Land, Where It May Get The Love Of Tender Kinship For The Face Of Earth, For The Labors Men Go Forth To, For The Sounds And Accents That Haunt It, For Whatever Will Give That Early Home A Familiar, Unmistakable Difference Amidst The Future Widening Of Knowledge.