The Morning Hour Has Gold At The

The Evil-doer Mourns In The Next; He Mourns In Both. He Mourns And Suffers When He Sees The Evil Of His Own Work.

And Then When All Around Grows Dark, When We Feel Utterly Alone, When All Men Right And Left Pass Us By And Know Us Not, A Forgotten Feeling Rises In The Breast.

There Is No Book In The World That Is So Thrilling, Stirring And Inspiring As The Upanishads.

It Is The Heart That Makes The Critic, Not The Nose.

A Man Is Not Learned Because He Talks Much; He Who Is Patient, Free From Hatred And Fear, He Is Called Learned.