If art does not enlarge men's sympathies, it does nothing morally. - George Eliot

New voices come to me where'er I roam, My heart too widens with its widening home: But song grows weaker, and the heart must break For lack of voice, or fingers that can wake The lyre's full answer; nay, its chords were all Too few to meet the growing spirit's call. The former songs seem little, yet no more Can soul, hand, voice, with interchanging lore Tell what the earth is saying unto me: The secret is too great, I hear confusedly.

Cruelty, like every other vice, requires no motive outside of itself; it only requires opportunity.

"A child, more than all other gifts
That earth can offer to declining man,
Brings hope with it, and forward-looking thoughts." — WORDSWORTH.