An Intense Anticipation Itself Transforms Possibility Into

What We Are Accustomed To Decry As Great Social Evils, Will, For The Most Part, Be Found To Be Only The Out-growth Of Our Own Perverted Life; And Though We May Endeavor To Cut Them Down And Extirpate Them By Means Of Law, They Will Only Spring Up Again With Fresh Luxuriance In Some Other Form, Unless The Conditions Of Human Life And Character Are Radically Improved.

The Great And Good Do No Die Even In This World. Embalmed In Books, Their Spirits Walk Abroad. The Book Is A Living Voice. It Is An Intellect To Which One Still Listens.

No Good Thing Is Ever Lost. Nothing Dies, Not Even Life Which Gives Up One Form Only To Resume Another. No Good Action, No Good Example Dies. It Lives Forever In Our Race. While The Frame Moulders And Disappears, The Deed Leaves An Indelible Stamp, And Molds The Very Thought And Will Of Future Generations.

It Is The Close Observation Of Little Things Which Is The Secret Of Success In Business, In Art, In Science, And In Every Pursuit In Life. Human Knowledge Is But An Accumulation Of Small Facts Made By Successive Generations Of Men--the Little Bits Of Knowledge And Experience Carefully Treasured Up By Them Growing At Length Into A Mighty Pyramid.

Diligence, Above All, Is The Mother Of Good Luck.