Time Is A Trust, And For Every

We Must Be Careful What We Read, And Not, Like The Sailors Of Ulysses, Take Bags Of Wind For Sacks Of Treasure.

Rest Is By No Means A Waste Of Time.

A Poor Woman From Manchester, On Being Taken To The Seaside, Is Said To Have Expressed Her Delight On Seeing For The First Time Something Of Which There Was Enough For Everybody.

Rest Is Not Idleness, And To Lie Sometimes On The Grass Under Trees On A Summer's Day, Listening To The Murmur Of The Water, Or Watching The Clouds Float Across The Sky, Is By No Means A Waste Of Time.

Our Own Happiness Ought Not To Be Our Main Objective In Life.