Surely There Is No Road Of Effort

Literature Is My Utopia

No One Has A Right To Consume Happiness Without Producing It.

I Am Not A Perfect Being. . . . I Have More Faults Than I Know What To Do With. I Have A Naughty Temper. I Am Stubborn, Impatient Of Hindrances And Of Stupidity. I Have Not In The Truest Sense A Christian Spirit. I Am Naturally A Fighter. I Am Lazy. I Put Off Till Tomorrow What I Might Better Do Today. I Do Not Feel That I Have Been Compensated For The Two Senses I Lack. I Have Worked Hard For All The Senses I Have Got, And Always I Beg For More.

When One Doors Closes, Another Door Opens.

The Hilltop Hour Would Not Be Half So Wonderful If There Were No Dark Valleys To Traverse.