There is a man sleeping in the grass. And over him is gathering the greatest storm of all his days. Such lightening and thunder will come there has never been seen before, bringing death and destruction. People hurry home past him, to places safe from danger. And whether they do not see him there in the grass, or whether they fear to halt even a moment, but they do not wake him, they let him be.

Now God be thanked that the name of a hill is such music, that the name of a river can heal.

Although nothing has come yet, something is here already.

It was not his habit to dwell on what could have been, but what could never be.

Sorrow is better than fear. Fear is a journey, a terrible journey. But, sorrow is at least an arriving.

But when the dawn will come, of our emancipation, from the fear of bondage and the bondage of fear, why, that is a secret.

But the one thing that has power completely is love, because when a man loves, he seeks no power, and therefore he has power.