Fear Secretes Acids; But Love And Trust

No Man Can Tell If He Is Rich Or Poor By Turning To His Ledger. It Is The Heart That Makes A Man Rich. He Is Rich According To What He Is, Not According To What He Has.

Next To Ingratitude The Most Painful Thing To Bear Is Gratitude.

It Is Not Work That Kills Men; It Is Worry. Work Is Healthy; You Can Hard Put More Upon A Man Than He Can Bear. Worry Is Rust Upon The Blade. It Is Not The Revolution That Destroys The Machinery, But The Friction.

Love Cannot Endure Indifference. It Needs To Be Wanted. Like A Lamp, It Needs To Be Fed Out Of The Oil Of Another's Heart, Or Its Flame Burns Low.

The Sun Does Not Shine For A Few Trees, And Flowers, But For The Wide World's Joy. The Lonely Pine On The Mountain-top Waves Its Sombre Boughs And Cries, 'thou Art My Sun.' And The Little Meadow Violet Lifts Its Cup Of Blue, And Whispers With Its Perfumed Breath, 'thou Art My Sun.' And The Grain In A Thousand Fields Rustles In The Wind, And Makes Answer, 'thou Art My Sun.' So God Sits Effulgent In Heaven, Not For A Favored Few, But For The Universe Of Life; And There Is No Creature So Poor Or So Low That He May Not Look Up With Childish Confidence And Say, 'my Father, Thou Art Mine.