Julia Ward Howe

I know not why there is such a melancholy feeling attached to the remembrance of past happiness, except that we fear that the future can have nothing so bright as the past.

The strokes of the pen need deliberation as much as the sword needs swiftness.

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.