Mirth Is God's Medicine.

Nowhere Else Can One Find So Miscellaneous, So Various, An Amount Of Knowledge As Is Contained In A Good Newspaper.

The Slave Labors, But With No Cheer - It Is Not The Road To Respectability, It Will Honor Him With No Citizens' Trust, It Brings No Bread To His Family, No Grain To His Garner, No Leisure In After-days, No Books Or Papers To His Children. It Opens No School-house Door, Builds No Church, Rears For Him No Factory, Lays No Keel, Fills No Bank, Earns No Acres. With Sweat And Toil And Ignorance He Consumes His Life, To Pour The Earnings Into Channels From Which He Does No Drink, Into Hands That Never Honor Him. But Perpetually Rob And Often Torment.

To The Great Tree-loving Fraternity We Belong. We Love Trees With Universal And Unfeigned Love, And All Things That Do Grow Under Them Or Around Them - The Whole Leaf And Root Tribe. Not Alone When They Are In Their Glory, But In Whatever State They Are - In Leaf, Or Rimed With Frost, Or Powdered With Snow, Or Crystal-sheathed In Ice, Or In Severe Outline Stripped And Bare Against A November Sky - We Love Them.

The Strength Of A Man Consists In Finding Out The Way God Is Going, And Going That Way.

Miracles Are Like Candles Lit Up Until The Sun Rises, And Then Blown Out. Therefore, I Am Amused When I Hear Sects And Churches Talk About Having Evidence Of Divine Authority Because They Have Miracles. Miracles In Our Time Are Like Candles In The Street At Midday. We Do Not Want Miracles. They Are To Teach Men How To Find Out Truths Themselves; And After They Have Learned This, They No More Need Them Than A Well Man Needs A Staff, Or A Grown-up Child Needs A Walking-stool.