There Is A Sacredness In Tears

What Earnest Worker, With Hand And Brain For The Benefit Of His Fellowmen, Could Desire A More Pleasing Recognition Of His Usefulness Than The Monument Of A Tree, Ever Growing, Ever Blooming, And Ever Bearing Wholesome Fruit?

Some Minds Corrode And Grow Inactive Under The Loss Of Personal Liberty; Others Grow Morbid And Irritable; But It Is The Nature Of The Poet To Become Tender And Imaginitive In The Loneliness Of Confinement. He Banquets Upon The Honey Of His Own Thoughts, And, Like The Captive Bird, Pours Forth His Soul In Melody.

In Civilized Life, Where The Happiness, And Indeed Almost The Existence, Of Man Depends So Much Upon The Opinion Of His Fellow Men, He Is Constantly Acting A Studied Part.

One Of The Greatest And Simplest Tools For Learning More And Growing Is Doing More.

Critics Are A Kind Of Freebooters In The Republic Of Letters--who, Like Deer, Goats And Divers Other Graminivorous Animals, Gain Subsistence By Gorging Upon Buds And Leaves Of The Young Shrubs Of The Forest, Thereby Robbing Them Of Their Verdure, And Retarding Their Progress To Maturity.