Happiness Is The Final And Perfect Fruit

I Do Not Like The World As It Is; So I Am Trying To Make It A Little More As I Want It.

During The First Nineteen Months Of My Life I Had Caught Glimpses Of Broad, Green Fields, A Luminous Sky, Trees And Flowers Which The Darkness That Followed Could Not Wholly Blot Out. If We Have Once Seen, "the Day Is Ours, And What The Day Has Shown."

One Can Never Consent To Creep When One Feels An Impulse To Soar.

To Me A Lush Carpet Of Pine Needles Or Spongy Grass Is More Welcome Than The Most Luxurious Persian Rug.

For My Part, I Wish, With Mr. Howells, That The Literature Of The Past Might Be Purged Of All That Is Ugly And Barbarous In It, Although I Should Object As Much As Any One To Having These Great Works Weakened Or Falsified.