There Is No Royal Road To Anything.

Communion Is The Law Of Growth, And Homes Only Thrive When They Sustain Relations With Each Other.

The Pleasant Converse Of The Fireside, The Simple Songs Of Home, The Words Of Encouragement As I Bend Over My School-tasks, The Kiss As I Lie Down To Rest, The Patient Bearing With The Freaks Of My Restless Nature, The Gentle Counsels Mingled With Reproofs And Approvals, The Sympathy That Meets And Assuages Every Sorrow, And Sweetens Every Little Success--all These Return To Me Amid The Responsibilities Which Press Upon Me Now, And I Feel As If I Had Once Lived In Heaven, And, Straying, Had Lost My Way.

This World Of Sense, Built By The Imagination--how Fair And Foul It Is! Like A Fairy Island In The Sea Of Life, It Smiles In Sunlight And Sleeps In Green, Known Of The World Not By Communion Of Knowledge, But By Personal, Secret Discovery!

Life Was Intended To Be So Adjusted That The Body Should Be The Servant Of The Soul, And Always Subordinate To The Soul.

Ah! Soul Of Mine! Ah! Soul Of Mine! Thy Sluggish Senses Are But Bars That Stand Between Thee And The Stars, And Shut Thee From The World Divine.