Heaven Lent You A Soul, Earth Will

When All Else Is Lost, The Future Still Remains.

In Secluding Himself Too Much From Society, An Author Is In Danger Of Losing That Intimate Acquaintance With Life Which Is The Only Sure Foundation Of Power In A Writer.

Contentment Is Not Happiness. An Oyster May Be Contented. Happiness Is Compounded Of Richer Elements.

The Heart Contracts As The Pocket Expands.

To No Circumstance Is The Wide Diffusion Of Error In The World More Owing Than To Our Habit Of Adopting Conclusions From Insufficiently Established Data. An Indispensable Preliminary, Then, In Every Investigation, Is To Get At Facts. Until These Are Arrived At, Every Opinion, Theory, Or System, However Ingeniously Framed, Must Necessarily Rest Upon An Uncertain Basis.