Truth is truth howe'er it strike.

There shall never be one lost good! What was, shall live as before; The evil is null, is nought, is silence implying sound; What was good shall be good, with for evil so much good more; On the earth the broken arcs; in the heaven, a perfect round.

Mothers, wives and maids, These be the tools with which priests manage men.

Men are not angels, neither are they brutes.

How good is life, the mere living!

grow old with me. the best is yet to be. the last of life for which the first was made.

You call for faith: I show you doubt, to prove that faith exists. The more of doubt, the stronger faith, I say, If faith o'ercomes doubt.