He seemed one for whom ideas were as doors, ever opening into new places.

And he did not shut those doors, or turn from them, until he had looked as far as he could see.
"Perhaps," he saw now, "that is the way it must come.

Doing it because you can't help doing it.

It seems wonderful enough to work the wonder." "Work what wonder ?" Katie asked timidly.
"The wonder of saving the world." He spoke it quietly, but passion, the passion of the visioner, leaped to his eyes at sound of what he had said.
Katie looked about at so much of the world as her vision afforded: Prosperous factories--beautiful homes--hundreds of other homes less beautiful, but comfortable looking--some other very humble homes which yet looked habitable, the beautifully kept Government island in between the two cities, seeming to stand for something stable and unifying--far away hills and a distant sky line--a steamboat going through the splendid Government bridge, automobiles and carriages and farm wagons passing over that bridge--this man who mended the boats, this young man so live that thoughts of life could change him as a sculptor can change his clay--dear little Worth who was happily building a raft, the beautiful dog lying there drawing restoration from the breath of the water--"But it doesn't look as though it needed 'saving,'" said Katie.
He shook his head.

"You're looking at the framework.