Every one here has to make something that isn't just money or _for_ money--something useful _and_ beautiful.' 'Even you ?' said Lucy.
'Even I,' said Mr.Noah.
'What do you make ?' the question was bound to come.
'Laws, of course,' Mr.Noah answered in some surprise.

'Didn't you know I was the Chief Judge ?' 'But laws can't be useful and beautiful, can they ?' 'They can certainly be useful,' said Mr.Noah, 'and,' he added with modest pride, 'my laws are beautiful.

What do you think of this?
"Everybody must try to be kind to everybody else.

Any one who has been unkind must be sorry and say so."' 'It seems all right,' said Philip, 'but it's not exactly beautiful.' 'Oh, don't you think so ?' said Mr.Noah, a little hurt; 'it mayn't _sound_ beautiful perhaps--I never could write poetry--but it's quite beautiful when people do it.' 'Oh, if you mean your laws are beautiful when they're _kept_,' said Philip.
'Beautiful things can't be beautiful when they're broken, of course,' Mr.Noah explained.

'Not even laws.