Truth never hurts the teller.

What's the earth With all its art, verse, music, worth — Compared with love, found, gained, and kept?

In this world, who can do a thing, will not; And who would do it, cannot, I perceive: Yet the will's somewhat — somewhat, too, the power — And thus we half-men struggle.

The great mind knows the power of gentleness.

Love, hope, fear, faith - these make humanity; These are its sign and note and character.

Sing, riding 's a joy! For me I ride.

We mortals cross the ocean of this world Each in his average cabin of a life; The bests not big, the worst yields elbowroom.