No man is born into the world whose work is not born with him. There is always work, and tools to work with, for those who will, and blessed are the horny hands of toil. The busy world shoves angrily aside the man who stands with arms akimbo until occasion tells him what to do; and he who waits to have his task marked out shall die and leave his errand unfulfilled.

Certainly it is no shame to a man that he should be as nice about his country as his sweetheart, yet it would not be wise to hold everyone an enemy who could not see her with our own enchanted eyes.

If the devil take a less hateful shape to us than to our fathers, he is as busy with us as with them.

Against the windows the storm comes dashing, Through tattered foliage the hail tears crashing, The blue lightning flashes, The rapid hail clashes... The thunder is rumbling And crashing and crumbling.

There comes Emerson first, whose rich words, every one, Are like gold nails in temples to hang trophies on.

And what is so rare as a day in June? Then, if ever, come perfect days.

Aspiration sees only one side of every question; possession many.