The Pen Is The Tongue Of The

Thinking Cannot Be Clear Until It Has Had Expression-we Must Write, Or Speak, Or Act Our Thoughts, Or They Will Remain In Half Torpid Form. Our Feelings Must Have Expression, Or They Will Be As Clouds, Which, Till They Descend In Rain, Will Never Bring Up Fruit Or Flowers. So It Is With All The Inward Feelings; Expression Gives Them Development-thought Is The Blossom; Language Is The Opening Bud; Action The Fruit Behind It.

A Love Of Flowers Would Beget Early Rising, Industry, Habits Of Close Observation, And Of Reading. It Would Incline The Mind To Notice Natural Phenomena, And To Reason Upon Them. It Would Occupy The Mind With Pure Thoughts, And Inspire A Sweet And Gentle Enthusiasm; Maintain Simplicity Of Taste; And ... Unfold In The Heart An Enlarged, Unstraightened, Ardent Piety.

Very Few Men Acquire Wealth In Such A Manner As To Receive Pleasure From It. Just As Long As There Is The Enthusiasm Of The Chase They Enjoy It; But When They Begin To Look Around, And Think Of Settling Down, They Find That That Part By Which Joy Enters Is Dead In Them. They Have Spent Their Lives In Heaping Up Colossal Piles Of Treasure, Which Stand, At The End, Like The Pyramids In The Desert Sands, Holding Only The Dust Of Kings.

A Man Who Cannot Get Angry Is Like A Stream That Cannot Overflow, That Is Always Turbid. Sometimes Indignation Is As Good As A Thunderstorm In Summer, Clearing And Cooling The Air.

God's Men Are Better Than The Devil's Men, And They Ought To Act As Though They Thought They Were.