The International Court Of Justice (a.k.a. World

The Fisherman Has A Harmless, Preoccupied Look; He Is A Kind Of Vagrant, That Nothing Fears. He Blends Himself With The Trees And The Shadows. All His Approaches Are Gentle And Indirect. He Times Himself To The Meandering, Soliloquizing Stream; He Addresses Himself To It As A Lover To His Mistress; He Woos It And Stays With It Till He Knows Its Hidden Secrets. Where It Deepens His Purpose Deepens; Where It Is Shallow He Is Indifferent. He Knows How To Interpret Its Every Glance And Dimple; Its Beauty Haunts Him For Days.

When You Bait Your Hook With Your Heart, The Fish Always Bite.

In Winter The Stars Seem To Have Rekindled Their Fires, The Moon Achieves A Fuller Triumph, And The Heavens Wear A Look Of A More Exalted Simplicity.

In The Order Of Nature We May Behold The Ways Of The Eternal.

One Summer Day, While I Was Walking Along The Country Road On The Farm Where I Was Born, A Section Of The Stone Wall Opposite Me, And Not More Than Three Or Four Yards Distant, Suddenly Fell Down. Amid The General Stillness And Immobility About Me The Effect Was Quite Startling. ... It Was The Sudden Summing Up Of Half A Century Or More Of Atomic Changes In The Material Of The Wall. A Grain Or Two Of Sand Yielded To The Pressure Of Long Years, And Gravity Did The Rest.