All evil is like a nightmare; the instant you stir under it, the evil is gone.

All true work is sacred. In all true work, were it but true hand work, there is something of divineness. Labor, wide as the earth, has its summit in Heaven.

Hardened round us, encasing wholly every notion we form is a wrapping of traditions, hearsay's, and mere words.

Of all your troubles, great and small, the greatest are the ones that don't happen at all.

Burke said there were Three Estates in Parliament; but, in the Reporter's gallery yonder, there sat a fourth estate more important far than they all.

Hunger whets everything, especially Suspicion and Indignation.

Today is not yesterday: we ourselves change; how can our works and thoughts, if they are always to be the fittest, continue always the same? Change, indeed is painful; yet ever needful; and if memory have its force and worth, so also has hope.