It Is The Weak Man Who Urges

The Path Of Civilization Is Paved With Tin Cans.

Souls Are Made Of Dawn-stuff And Starshine.

Christianity Supplies A Hell For The People Who Disagree With You And A Heaven For Your Friends.

The Finest Flowers Are Those Transplanted, For Transplanting Means Difficulty, A Readjusting To New Conditions, And Through The Effort Put Forth To Find Adjustment Does The Plant Progress.

The Worst Thing About Medicine Is That One Kind Makes Another Necessary