I Came From A Race Of Fishers;

If You Want To See Birds, You Must Have Birds In Your Heart.

The Bluebird Enjoys The Preeminence Of Being The First Bit Of Color That Cheers Our Northern Landscape. The Other Birds That Arrive About The Same Time--the Sparrow, The Robin, The Phoebe-bird--are Clad In Neutral Tints, Gray, Brown, Or Russet; But The Bluebird Brings One Of The Primary Hues And The Divinest Of Them All.

The Poor Old Earth Which Has Mothered Us And Nursed Us We Treat With Scant Respect. Our Awe And Veneration We Reserve For The Worlds We Know Not Of. Our Senses Sell Us Out. The Mud On Our Shoes Disenchants Us.

For Anything Worth Having One Must Pay The Price; And The Price Is Always Work, Patience, Love, Self-sacrifice - No Paper Currency, No Promises To Pay, But The Gold Of Real Service.

One Resolution I Have Made, And Try Always To Keep, Is This: ‘to Rise Above Little Things’.