I Have Always Sought To Guide The

Every Real Thought On Every Real Subject Knocks The Wind Out Of Somebody Or Other.

Men Are Idolaters, And Want Something To Look At And Kiss And Hug, Or Throw Themselves Down Before; They Always Did, They Always Will; And If You Don't Make It Of Wood, You Must Make It Of Words.

Life Is An End In Itself, And The Only Question As To Whether It Is Worth Living Is Whether You Have Had Enough Of It.

There Is Nothing Like The Dead Cold Hand Of The Past To Take Down Our Tumid Egotism And Lead Us Into The Solemn Flow Of The Life Of Our Race.

The Foliage Has Been Losing Its Freshness Through The Month Of August, And Here And There A Yellow Leaf Shows Itself Like The First Gray Hair Amidst The Locks Of A Beauty Who Has Seen One Season Too Many.