You have a confession of faith ready-made for everybody, but yourself.

I only meant for you to take care what you do.

That woman looks as the Prodigal Son might have done when he began to be in want, and would fain have fed himself with the husks that the swine did eat." Knowles got up moodily.
"Whose work is it, then ?" he muttered, following the men down the street; for they walked on.

"The world has waited six thousand years for help.

It comes slowly,--slowly, Vandyke; even through your religion." The young man did not answer: looked up, with quiet, rapt eyes, through the silent city, and the clear gray beyond.