With every deed you are sowing a seed, though the harvest you may not see.

A weed is but an unloved flower.

Let us clear a little space, And make Love a burial-place. He is dead, dear, as you see, And he wearies you and me.

There is no thing we cannot overcome Say not thy evil instinct is inherited, Or that some trait inborn makes thy whole life forlorn, And calls down punishment that is not merited.

Always continue to climb.

Distrust that man who tells you to distrust. He takes the measure of his own small soul, and thinks the world no larger.

Just a little every day That's the way Children learn to read and write Bit by bit and mite by mite.