And he was utterly untainted by emotion.

He never fell,
never slipped back,
never flew.

No one, on his deathbed, ever regretted having been a Catholic.

A dead man who never caused others to die seldom rates a statue.

He never complained. He seemed to have no instinct for the making much of oneself that complaining requires.

A good man complains of no one; he does not look to faults.

His heart missed a beat and never regretted the lovely loss.

A man who has no conscience, no goodness, does not suffer.

A man who preserves his integrity no real, long-lasting harm can ever come.

He had a clear conscience. Never used it.

A wise man is never cheated, a virtuous man is never worried and a courageous man is never afraid.

He sounded like a man who had slept well and didn’t owe too much money.

He never felt lonliness except when he was happy.

He never denied it. He never did anything. He never acted like either a nigger or a white man. That was it. That was what made the folks so mad.