He is not dead, this friend; not dead, Gone some few, trifling steps ahead, And nearer to the end; So that you, too, once past the bend, Shall meet again, as face to face, this friend You fancy dead.

Make up your mind to be happy.

Sing a song of seasons; something bright in all, flowers in the summer, fires in the fall.

Every man has a sane spot somewhere.

Don't judge each day by the harvest you reap but by the seeds that you plant.

Take care of each other.

You think dogs will not be in heaven? I tell you, they will be there long before any of us.