In creating, the only hard thing is to begin: a grass blade's no easier to make than an oak.

Books are the bees which carry the quickening pollen from one to another mind.

Idleness induces caprice.

In the scale of the destinies, brawn will never weigh so mach as brain.

Evil springs up, and flowers, and bears no seed, And feeds the green earth with its swift decay, Leaving it richer for the growth of truth.

These pearls of thought in Persian gulfs were bred, Each softly lucent as a rounded moon; The diver Omar plucked them from their bed, Fitzgerald strung them on an English thread.

Laborin' man an' laborin' woman Hev one glory an' one shame; Ev'y thin' thet' s done inhuman Injers all on 'em the same.