Much Must He Toil Who Serves The

Our Ingress Into The World Was Naked And Bare; Our Progress Through The World Is Trouble And Care.

I Am More Afraid Of Deserving Criticism Than Of Receiving It.

Your Education Begins Where What Is Called Your Education Is Over. Your Fate Is But The Common Lot Of All.

Not Chance Of Birth Or Place Has Made Us Friends, Being Oftentimes Of Different Tongues And Nations, But The Endeavor For The Selfsame Ends, With The Same Hopes, And Fears, And Aspirations.

A Handful Of Red Sand From The Hot Clime Of Arab Deserts Brought, Within This Glass Becomes The Spy Of Time, The Minister Of Thought.