A Sharp Spear Needs No Polish.

The Sky Aft Was Dark As Pitch, But The Moon Still Shone Brightly Ahead Of Us And Lit Up The Blackness. Beneath Its Sheen A Huge White-topped Breaker, Twenty Feet High Or More, Was Rushing On To Us. It Was On The Break-the Moon Shone On Its Crest And Tipped Its Foam With Light. On It Rushed Beneath The Inky Sky, Driven By The Awful Squall Behind It.

It Is Curious To Look Back And Realize Upon What Trivial And Apparently Coincidental Circumstances Great Events Frequently Turn As Easily And Naturally As A Door On Its Hinges.

Man Doeth This And Doeth That From The Good Or Evil Of His Heart; But He Knows Not To What End His Sense Doth Prompt Him; For When He Strikes He Is Blind To Where The Blow Shall Fall, Nor Can He Count The Airy Threads That Weave The Web Of Circumstance. Good And Evil, Love And Hate, Night And Day, Sweet And Bitter, Man And Woman, Heaven Above And The Earth Beneath--all Those Things Are Needful, One To The Other, And Who Knows The End Of Each?

Passion Is Like The Lightning, It Is Beautiful, And It Links The Earth To Heaven, But Alas It Blinds!

How Can A World Be Good In Which Money Is The Moving Power, And Self-interest The Guiding Star?