A Book Is Good Company. It Is

The Sun Does Not Shine For A Few Trees, And Flowers, But For The Wide World's Joy. The Lonely Pine On The Mountain-top Waves Its Sombre Boughs And Cries, 'thou Art My Sun.' And The Little Meadow Violet Lifts Its Cup Of Blue, And Whispers With Its Perfumed Breath, 'thou Art My Sun.' And The Grain In A Thousand Fields Rustles In The Wind, And Makes Answer, 'thou Art My Sun.' So God Sits Effulgent In Heaven, Not For A Favored Few, But For The Universe Of Life; And There Is No Creature So Poor Or So Low That He May Not Look Up With Childish Confidence And Say, 'my Father, Thou Art Mine.

When Leisure Is A Selfish Luxury, Its Very Activity, When It Stirs, Is Apt To Be Only A Kind Of Indolence Taking Exercise, That It May The Better Digest Its Selfishness.

Wealth In Activity--capital With All Its Friction--is Far Safer Than Invested Wealth Lying Dead.

No Man Is Good For Anything Who Has Not Some Particle Of Obstinacy To Use Upon Occasion.

Coming To The Bible Through Commentaries Is Much Like Looking At A Landscape Through Garret Windows, Over Which Generations Of Unmolested Spiders Have Spun Their Webs.