As For The Bishop, The Sight Of

The Quantity Of Civilization Is Measured By The Quality Of Imagination.

A Tempest Ceases, A Cyclone Passes Over, A Wind Dies Down, A Broken Mast Can Be Replaced, A Leak Can Be Stopped, A Fire Extinguished, But What Will Become Of This Enormous Brute Of Bronze?

If You Would Civilize A Man, Begin With His Grandmother.

The Reduction Of The Universe To The Compass Of A Single Being, And The Extension Of A Single Being Until It Reaches God - That Is Love. Love Is The Salute Of The Angels To The Stars. How Sad Is The Heart When Rendered Sad By Love! How Great Is The Void Created By The Absence Of The Being Who Alone Fills The World.

There Is Always More Misery Among The Lower Classes Than There Is Humanity In The Higher.