Snow Endures But For A Season, And

In The Morning When Thou Risest Unwillingly, Let This Thought Be Present - I Am Rising To The Work Of A Human Being. Why Then Am I Dissatisfied If I Am Going To Do The Things For Which I Exist And For Which I Was Brought Into The World?

The Memory Of Everything Is Very Soon Overwhelmed In Time.

Dig Inside. Inside Is The Fountain Of Good, And It Will Forever Flow, If You Will Forever Dig.

At Day's First Light Have In Readiness, Against Disinclination To Leave Your Bed, The Thought That "i Am Rising For The Work Of Man."

Poverty Is The Mother Of Crime.