The Smallest Deed Is Better Than The

It Is The Life Of The Crystal, The Architect Of The Flake, The Fire Of The Frost, The Soul Of The Sunbeam. This Crisp Winter Air Is Full Of It.

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.

That Which Distinguishes This Day From All Others Is That Then Both Orators And Artillerymen Shoot Blank Cartridges.

Blessed Is The Man Who Has Some Congenial Work, Some Occupation In Which He Can Put His Heart, And Which Affords A Complete Outlet To All The Forces There Are In Him.

When I Look Up Into The Starry Heavens At Night And Reflect Upon What It Is I Really See There, I Am Constrained To Say, ´there Is No God´.