But human experience is usually paradoxical, that means incongruous with the phrases of current talk or even current philosophy.

All the learnin' my father ever paid for was a bit o' birch at one end and the alphabet at th ' other.

It was one of those dangerous moments when speech is at once sincere and deceptive - when feeling, rising high above its average depth, leaves flood-marks which are never reached again.

But what we strive to gratify, though we may call it a distant hope, is an immediate desire; the future estate for which men drudge up city alleys exists already in their imagination and love.

When one is grateful for something too good for common thanks, writing is less unsatisfactory than speech-one does not, at least, hear how inadequate the words are.

The poverty of our imagination is no measure of say the world's resources. Our posterity will no doubt get fuel in ways that we are unable to devise for them.

There are glances of hatred that stab, and raise no cry of murder.