A Sharp Spear Needs No Polish.

Truly Wealth, Which Men Spend All Their Lives In Acquiring, Is A Valueless Thing At The Last.

The Food That Memory Gives To Eat Is Bitter To The Taste, And It Is Only With The Teeth Of Hope That We Can Bear To Bite It.

The Sky Aft Was Dark As Pitch, But The Moon Still Shone Brightly Ahead Of Us And Lit Up The Blackness. Beneath Its Sheen A Huge White-topped Breaker, Twenty Feet High Or More, Was Rushing On To Us. It Was On The Break-the Moon Shone On Its Crest And Tipped Its Foam With Light. On It Rushed Beneath The Inky Sky, Driven By The Awful Squall Behind It.

Ah! If Man Would But See That Hope Is From Within And Not From Without - That He Himself Must Work Out His Own Salvation.

We White People Think That We Know Everything.