Radicalism Is But The Desperation Of Logic.

What Is Our Life But A Succession Of Preludes To That Unknown Song Whose First Solemn Note Is Sounded By Death?

Sentiment Is The Poetry Of The Imagination.

Before This Century Shall Run Out, Journalism Will Be The Whole Press. Mankind Will Write Their Book Day By Day, Hour By Hour, Page By Page. Thought Will Spread Abroad With The Rapidity Of Light--instantly Conceived, Instantly Written, Instantly Understood At The Extremities Of The Earth.

Friendship, Sweet-resting Place Of The Soul, The Gloaming Wherein Our Hearts Find Peace.

Providence Conceals Itself In The Details Of Human Affairs, But Becomes Unveiled In The Generalities Of History.