Where'er a noble deed is wrought, Where'er is spoken a noble thought, Our hearts in glad surprise To higher levels rise.

How wonderful is the human voice! It is indeed the organ of the soul. The intellect of man is enthroned visibly on his forehead and in his eye, and the heart of man is written on his countenance, but the soul, the soul reveals itself in the voice only.

The soul...is audible, not visible.

We judge ourselves by what we feel capable of doing, while others judge us by what we have already done.

Though the mills of God grind slowly, yet they grind exceeding small; Though with patience He stands waiting, with exactness grinds He all.

That which the fountain sends forth returns again to the fountain.

Critics are sentinels in the grand army of letters, stationed at the corners of newspapers and reviews, to challenge every new author.