Who knows what the human body would expand and flow out to under a more genial heaven?

You ask if there is no doctrine of sorrow in my philosophy. Of acute sorrow I suppose that I know comparatively little. My saddestand most genuine sorrows are apt to be but transient regrets. The place of sorrow is supplied, perchance, by a certain hard and proportionately barren indifference. I am of kin to the sod, and partake of its dull patience,--in winter expecting the sun of spring.

A goal is a dream taken seriously.

The laboring man has not leisure for a true integrity day by day.

How many fine thoughts has every man had! How few fine thoughts are expressed!

Surely the writer is to address a world of laborers, and such therefore must be his own discipline.

The boy gathers materials for a temple, and then when he is thirty, concludes to build a woodshed.