To the press alone chequered as it is with abuses the world is indebted for all the triumphs which have been gained by reason and humanity over error and oppression.
We steal if we touch tomorrow. It is God's.
Pride slays thanksgiving but a humble mind is the soil out of which thanks...
The babe at first feeds upon the mother's bosom but it is always on her heart.
It's not the work which kills people it's the worry. It's not the revolution...
From your silken hair to your delicate feet you are perfection to me....
Until they put that sand and dirt in my face I will not sit in church all...
God has no religion.
