Mine eyes have seen the glory of the coming of the Lord: He is trampling out the vintage where the grapes of wrath are stored.

In the beauty of the lilies Christ was born across the sea, / With a glory in his bosom that transfigures you and me: / As he died to make men holy, let us die to make men free, / While God is marching on.

Boston is an oasis in the desert, a place where the larger proportion of people are loving, rational and happy.

Our sons shall not be taken from us to unlearn
 all that we have been able to teach them of charity, mercy and patience.

Disarm, disarm. The sword of murder is not the balance of justice. Blood does not wipe out dishonor, nor violence indicate possession.

When I see the elaborate study and ingenuity displayed by women in the pursuit of trifles, I feel no doubt of their capacity for the most herculean undertakings.