Lost, Yesterday, Somewhere Between Sunrise And Sunset,

Be Careful Never To Retire To Rest In A Room Not Properly Ventilated.

Every Hand And Every Hour Should Be Devoted To Rescue The World From Its Insanity Of Guilt, And To Assuage The Pangs Of Human Hearts With Balm And Anodyne. To Pity Distress Is But Human; To Relieve It Is Godlike.

Want Of Occupation Is The Bane Of Both Men And Women, Perhaps More Especially Of The Latter.

The Soul Of The Truly Benevolent Man Does Not Seem To Reside Much In His Own Body. Its Life, To A Great Extent, Is A Mere Reflex Of The Lives Of Others. It Migrates Into Their Bodies, And Identifying Its Existence With Their Existence, Finds Its Own Happiness In Increasing And Prolonging Their Pleasures, In Extinguishing Or Solacing Their Pains.

Above All, Let The Poor Hang Up The Amulet Of Temperance In Their Homes.