Hope Is The Only Bee That Makes

There Is Something Tenderly Appropriate In The Serene Death Of The Old. Nothing Is More Touching Than The Death Of The Young, The Strong.

Reason Is The Light, The Sun Of The Brain. It Is The Compass Of The Mind, The Ever-constant Northern Star, The Mountain Peak That Lifts Itself Above All Clouds.

Give Me The Storm And Tempest Of Thought And Action, Rather Than The Dead Calm Of Ignorance And Faith! Banish Me From Eden When You Will; But First Let Me Eat Of The Fruit Of The Tree Of Knowledge!

No Man Has A Right To Leave His Wife To Fight The Battle Alone If He Is Able To Help. No Man Has A Right To Desert His Children If He Can Possibly Be Of Use. As Long As He Can Add To The Comfort Of Those He Loves, As Long As He Can . . . Be Of Any Use, It Is His Duty To Remain.

Every Cradle Asks Us, Whence? And Every Coffin, Whither? The Poor Barbarian, Weeping Above His Dead, Can Answer These Questions As Intelligently As The Robed Priest Of The Most Authentic Creed.