There Is Hardly A Man On Earth

When You Bait Your Hook With Your Heart, The Fish Always Bite.

One May Return To The Place Of His Birth, He Cannot Go Back To His Youth.

For Two Summers Not A Blue Wing, Not A Blue Warble. I Seemed To Miss Something Kindred And Precious From My Environment--the Visible Embodiment Of The Tender Sky And Wistful Soil. What A Loss, I Said, To Coming Generations Of Dwellers In The Country--no Bluebird In Spring!

It Is The Life Of The Crystal, The Architect Of The Flake, The Fire Of The Frost, The Soul Of The Sunbeam. This Crisp Winter Air Is Full Of It.

For Anything Worth Having One Must Pay The Price; And The Price Is Always Work, Patience, Love, Self-sacrifice - No Paper Currency, No Promises To Pay, But The Gold Of Real Service.