But when I was twelve years old I caught my first strong glimpse of one of the fundamental forces of existence, whose votary I was destined to be for life - namely, Beauty.

It was jolly in the country. A cow and little pigs to play with and milk warm from the cow.

On the whole, the world was friendly. It chiefly depended on whether one were good or not.

The stream of time sweeps away errors, and leaves the truth for the inheritance of humanity.

Poor is the power of the lead that becomes bullets compared to the power of the hot metal that becomes types.

School is a foretaste of life.

The appalling thing about war is that it kills all love of truth.