Still The Race Of Hero Spirits Pass

Let Us Ask Ourselves Seriously And Honestly, 'what Do I Believe After All? What Manner Of Man Am I After All? What Sort Of Show Would I Make After All, If The People Around Me Knew My Heart And All My Secret Thoughts?" What Sort Of Show Then Do I Already Make In The Sight Of Almighty God, Who Sees Every Man Exactly As He Is?'

Be Good, Sweet Maid, And Let Who Will Be Clever.

Beauty Is God's Handwriting — A Wayside Sacrament; Welcome It In Every Fair Face, Every Fair Sky, Every Fair Flower, And Thank For It Him.

You Must Not Talk About 'ain't And Can't' When You Speak Of This Great Wonderful World Round You, Of Which The Wisest Man Knows Only The Very Smallest Corner, And Is, As The Great Sir Isaac Newton Said, Only A Child Picking Up Pebbles On The Shore Of A Boundless Ocean.

Life Is Too Short For Mean Anxieties.