A Man Who Does Not Love Praise

Death Is Not An End. It Is A New Impulse.

The Aster Has Not Wasted Spring And Summer Because It Has Not Blossomed. It Has Been All The Time Preparing For What Is To Follow, And In Autumn It Is The Glory Of The Field, And Only The Frost Lays It Low. So There Are Many People Who Must Live Forty Or Fifty Years, And Have The Crude Sap Of Their Natural Dispositions Changed And Sweetened Before The Blossoming Time Can Come; But Their Lives Have Not Been Wasted.

In This World, Full Often, Our Joys Are Only The Tender Shadows Which Our Sorrows Cast.

When The Old Creeds Are Threadbare, And Worn Through, And All Too Narrow For The Broadening Soul, Give Me The Fine, Firm Texture Of The New, Fair, Beautiful And Whole!

God Made Every Man To Have Power To Be Mightier Than The Events Round About Him; To Hold By His Firm Will The Reigns By Which All Things Are Guided.