The Best Of All The Preachers Are

Be A Friend. You Don't Need Glory. Friendship Is A Simple Story.

No One Is Beat Till He Quits, No One Is Through Till He Stops. No Matter How Hard Failure Hits, No Matter How Often He Drops, A Fellow's Not Down Till He Lies In The Dust And Refuses To Rise.

The World Is No Longer Closed To Us In The Way It Was In The Past - Present Generations Have Unparalleled Access To Pretty Much All Corners Of The Globe.

There's Nothing That Builds Up A Toil-weary Soul Like A Day On A Stream, Back On The Banks Of The Old Fishing Hole Where A Fellow Can Dream. There's Nothing So Good For A Man As To Flee From The City And Lie Full Length In The Shade Of A Whispering Tree And Gaze At The Sky. . . . . It Is Good For The World That Men Hunger To Go To The Banks Of A Stream, And Weary Of Sham And Of Pomp And Of Show They Have Somewhere To Dream. For This Life Would Be Dreary And Sordid And Base Did They Not Now And Then Seek Refreshment And Calm In God's Wide, Open Space And Come Back To Be Men.

At Christmas A Man Is At His Finest Towards The Finish Of The Year; He Is Almost What He Should Be When The Christmas Season's Here; Then He's Thinking More Of Others Than He's Thought The Months Before, And The Laughter Of His Children Is A Joy Worth Toiling For. He Is Less A Selfish Creature Than At Any Other Time; When The Christmas Spirit Rules Him He Comes Close To The Sublime.