My Poor Head Is In Such A

He Who Possesses Science And Art, Possesses Religion As Well; He Who Possesses Neither Of These, Had Better Have Religion.

Nature! We Are Surrounded By Her And Locked In Her Clasp: Powerless To Leave Her, And Powerless To Come Closer To Her. Unasked And Unwarned She Takes Us Up Into The Whirl Of Her Dance, And Hurries On With Us Till We Are Weary And Fall From Her Arms.

Dream No Small Dreams For They Have No Power To Move The Hearts Of Men.

Whatever We Think Out, Whatever We Take In Hand To Do, Should Be Perfectly And Finally Finished, That The World, If It Must Alter, Will Only Have To Spoil It; We Have Then Nothing To Do But Unite The Severed, To Recollect And Restore The Dismembered.

Happiness Is A Ball After Which We Run Wherever It Rolls, And We Push It With Our Feet When It Stops.