The discontent with the existing order of things pervaded the atmosphere, wherever the conditions were favorable, long before Columbus, seeking the back door of Asia, found himself knocking at the front door of America.

The nurse of full-grown souls is solitude.

Who gives himself with his alms feeds three, himself, his hungering neighbor and me.

Whom the heart of man shuts out, Sometimes the heart of God takes in, And fences them all round about With silence mid the worlds loud din.

Creativity is not the finding of a thing, but the making something out of it after it is found.

Metaphor is no argument, though it be sometimes the gunpowder to drive one home, and imbed it in the memory.

A word once vulgarized can never be rehabilitated.