Men are not angels, neither are they brutes.

Our aspirations are our responsibilities.

If you can sit at set of sun And count the deeds that you have done And counting find oneself-denying act, one word That eased the heart of him that heard. One glance most kind, Which fell like sunshine where he went, Then you may count that day well spent.

A people is but the attempt of many To rise to the completer life of one; And those who live as models for the mass Are singly of more value than they all.

I show you doubt, to prove that faith exists.

We find great things are made of little things, And little things go lessening till at last Comes God behind them.

Only I discern Infinite passion, and the pain Of finite hearts that yearn.