There is no heroic poem in the world but is at bottom a biography, the life of a man.

The work an unknown good man has done is like a vein of water flowing hidden underground, secretly making the ground green.

Wondrous is the strength of cheerfulness, altogether past calculation its powers of endurance.

Not brute force but only persuasion and faith are the kings of this world.

For man is not the creature and product of Mechanism; but, in a far truer sense, its creator and producer.

All that mankind has done, thought or been: it is lying as in magic preservation in the pages of books.

Rest is for the dead.