Bee to the blossom, moth to the flame; Each to his passion; what's in a name?

The goldenrod is yellow, The corn is turning brown, The trees in apple orchards With fruit are bending down.

Who longest waits most surely wins.

The woman who creates and sustains a home, and under whose hands children grow up to be strong and pure men and women, is a creator second only to God.

By all these lovely tokens September days are here, With summer's best of weather And autumn's best of cheer.

I shall be found with 'Indians' engraved on my brain when I am dead. A fire has been kindled within me, which will never go out.

The wild mustard in Southern California is like that spoken of in the New Testament. . . . Its gold is as distinct a value to the eye as the nugget gold is in the pocket.