Joy Mingled With Sadness, Even With Grief,

Trees Have About Them Something Beautiful And Attractive Even To The Fancy, Since They Cannot Change Their Places, Are Witnesses Of All The Changes That Take Place Around Them; And As Some Reach A Great Age, They Become, As It Were, Historical Monuments, And Like Ourselves They Have A Life, Growing And Passing Away, --not Being Inanimate And Unvarying Like The Fields And Rivers. One Sees Them Passing Through Various Stages, And At Last Step By Step Approaching Death, Which Makes Them Look Still More Like Ourselves.

How A Person Masters His Or Her Fate Is More Important Than What That Fate Is.

In The Moral World There Is Nothing Impossible If We Can Bring A Thorough Will To It. Man Can Do Everything With Himself, But He Must Not Attempt To Do Too Much With Others.

Besides The Pleasure Derived From Acquired Knowledge, There Lurks In The Mind Of Man, And Tinged With A Shade Of Sadness, An Unsatisfactory Longing For Something Beyond The Present, A Striving Towards Regions Yet Unknown And Unopened.

The Sorrow Which Calls For Help And Comfort Is Not The Greatest, Nor Does It Come From The Depths Of The Heart.