The rain to the wind said, You push and I'll pelt.' They so smote the garden bed That the flowers actually knelt, And lay lodged--though not dead. I know how the flowers felt.

Let him that is without stone among you cast the first thing he can lay his hands on.

All great things are done for their own sake.

I'd just as soon play tennis with the net down.

A true sonnet goes eight lines and then takes a turn for better or worse and goes six or eight lines more.

I often say of George Washington that he was one of the few in the whole history of the world who was not carried away by power.

There is the fear that we shan't prove worthy in the eyes of someone who knows us at least as well as we know ourselves. That is the fear of God. And there is the fear of Man -fear that men won't understand us and we shall be cut of from them.