The hands of those I meet are dumbly eloquent to me. The touch of some hands is an impertinence. I have met people so empty of joy, that when I clasped their frosty finger-tips, it seemed as if I were shaking hands with a northeast storm. Others there are whose hands have sunbeams in them, so that their grasp warms my heart. It may be only the clinging touch of a child's hand; but there is as much potential sunshine in it for me as there is in a loving glance for others. A hearty handshake or a friendly letter gives me genuine pleasure.

A man can't make a place for himself in the sun if he keeps taking refuge under the family tree.

People are too prone to think that the actual is the limit of possibility. They believe that all that has been done is all that can be done.

One painful duty fulfilled makes the next plainer and easier.

Burn brightly without burning out. Throw your heart over the fense and the rest will follow. Keep your face to the sunshine and you wont see the shadows

Hope sees the invisible, feels the intangible, and achieves the impossible.

Cut off as I am, it is inevitable that I should sometimes feel like a shadow walking in a shadowy world. When this happens I ask to be taken to New York City. Always I return home weary but I have the comforting certainty that mankind is real flesh and I myself am not a dream.