The Mountains Are Calling And I Must

It Is A Fine Thing To See People In Hot Earnest About Anything.

Handle A Book As A Bee Does A Flower, Extract Its Sweetness But Do Not Damage It.

A Man, In His Books, May Be Said To Walk The Earth A Long Time After He Is Gone.

Few In These Hot, Dim, Strenuous Times Are Quite Sane Or Free; Choked With Care Like Clocks Full Of Dust, Laboriously Doing So Much Good And Making So Much Money - Or So Little, They Are No Longer Good For Themselves.

It Is A Vast Wilderness Of Rocks In A Sea Of Light, Colored And Glowing Like Oak And Maple In Autumn, When The Sun Gold Is Richest