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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.

-James Russell Lowell

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No Man Is Born

James Russell Lowell

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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.

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May Is A Pious Fraud Of The Almanac.

No Sincere Desire Of Doing Good Need Make An Enemy Of A Single Human Being; That Philanthropy Has Surely A Flaw In It Which Cannot Sympathize With The Oppressor Equally As With The Oppressed.

What Men Prize Most Is A Privilege, Even If It Be That Of Chief Mourner At A Funeral.

The Opening Of The First Grammar School Was The Opening Of The First Trench Against Monopoly In Church And State.

Virtue Treads Paths That End Not In The Grave.

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.

A Man Is Old When He Can Pass An Apple Orchard And Not Remember The Stomachache.

The Very Gnarliest And Hardest Of Hearts Has Some Musical Strings In It; But They Are Tuned Differently In Every One Of Us.

Again, Now, Now, Again Plashes The Rain In Heavy Gouts, The Crinkled Lightning Seems Ever Brightening... And Loud And Long Again The Thunder Shouts His Battle-song, - One Quivering Flash, One Wildering Crash, Followed By Silence Dead And Dull, As If The Cloud, Let Go, Leapt Bodily Below To Whelm The Earth In One Mad Overthrow, And Then A Total Lull.

My Soul Is Not A Palace Of The Past.

Ez Fer War, I Call It Murder,- There You Hev It Plain An' Flat; I Don't Want To Go No Furder Than My Testyment Fer That. . . . . . An' You 've Gut To Git Up Airly Ef You Want To Take In God.

Not What We Give, But What We Share, For The Gift Without The Giver Is Bare.

There Is Nothing So Desperately Monotonous As The Sea, And I No Longer Wonder At The Cruelty Of Pirates.

There Is No Better Ballast For Keeping The Mind Steady On Its Keel, And Saving It From All Risk Of Crankiness, Than Business.

To Genius Life Never Grows Commonplace.

The Only Conclusive Evidence Of A Man's Sincerity Is That He Gives Himself For A Principle. Words, Money, All Things Else, Are Comparatively Easy To Give Away; But When A Man Makes A Gift Of His Daily Life And Practice, It Is Plain That The Truth, Whatever It May Be, Has Taken Possession Of Him.

To Be Young Is Surely The Best, If The Most Precarious, Gift Of Life.

There Is No Work Of Genius Which Has Not Been The Delight Of Mankind, No Word Of Genius To Which The Human Heart And Soul Have Not Sooner Or Later Responded.

Some Day The Soft Ideal That We Wooed Confronts Us Fiercely, Foe-beset, Pursued, And Cries Reproachful: Was It Then My Praise, And Not Myself Was Loved? Prove Now Thy Truth; I Claim Of Thee The Promise Of Thy Youth.

God Is The Only Being Who Has Time Enough; But A Prudent Man, Who Knows How To Seize Occasion, Can Commonly Make A Shift To Find As Much As He Needs.

The Future Works Out Great Men's Destinies; The Present Is Enough For Common Souls, Who, Never Looking Forward, Are Indeed Mere Clay Wherein The Footprints Of Their Age Are Petrified Forever.

It Seems To Me That The Bane Of Our Country Is A Profession Of Faith Either With No Basis Of Real Belief, Or With No Proper Examination Of The Grounds On Which The Creed Is Supposed To Rest.

Ah, In This World, Where Every Guiding Thread Ends Suddenly In The One Sure Centre, Death, The Visionary Hand Of Might-have-been Alone Can Fill Desire's Cup To The Brim!

Each Day The World Is Born Anew For Him Who Takes It Rightly.

Piety Is Indifferent Whether She Enters At The Eye Or At The Ear. There Is None Of The Senses At Which She Does Not Knock One Day Or Other. The Puritans Forgot This, And Thrust Beauty Out Of The Meeting-house And Slammed The Door In Her Face.

It ["the Ancient Mariner"] Is Marvellous In Its Mastery Over That Delightfully Fortuitous Inconsequence That Is The Adamantine Logic Of Dreamland.

Moral Supremacy Is The Only One That Leaves Monuments, And Not Ruins, Behind It.

No Man Can Produce Great Things Who Is Not Thoroughly Sincere In Dealing With Himself.

The Brain Can Be Easy To Buy, But The Heart Never Comes To Market.

Violet! Sweet Violet! Thine Eyes Are Full Of Tears; Are They Wet Even Yet With The Thought Of Other Years?

Reputation Is Only A Candle, Of Wavering And Uncertain Flame, And Easily Blown Out, But It Is The Light By Which The World Looks For And Finds Merit.

For Men In Earnest Have No Time To Waste In Patching Fig-leaves For The Naked Truth.

A Sneer Is The Weapon Of The Weak. Like Other Devil's Weapons, It Is Always Cunningly Ready To Our Hand, And There Is More Poison In The Handle Than In The Point.

God Is Not Dumb, That He Should Speak No More; If Thou Hast Wanderings In The Wilderness And Find'st Not Sinai, 'tis Thy Soul Is Poor.

It May Be Conjectured That It Is Cheaper In The Long Run To Lift Men Up Than To Hold Them Down, And That The Ballot In Their Hands Is Less Dangerous To Society Than A Sense Of Wrong Is In Their Heads.

The Surest Plan To Make A Man Is, Think Him So.

Freedom Needs All Her Poets; It Is They Who Give Her Aspirations Wings, And To The Wiser Law Of Music Sway Her Wild Imaginings.

That Cause Is Strong Which Has, Not A Multitude, But One Strong Man Behind It.

A Wise Skepticism Is The First Attribute Of A Good Critic.

Nature, They Say, Doth Dote, And Cannot Make A Man Save On Some Worn-out Plan Repeating Us By Rote: For Him Her Old World Moulds Aside She Threw And, Choosing Sweet Clay From The Breast Of The Unexhausted West, With Stuff Untainted Shaped A Hero New.

There Is Something Solid And Doughty In The Man That Can Rise From Defeat, The Stuff Of Which Victories Are Made In Due Time, When We Are Able To Choose Our Position Better, And The Sun Is At Our Back.

In The Gain Or Loss Of One Race All The Rest Have Equal Claim.

The Quiet Tenderness Of Chaucer, Where You Almost Seem To Hear The Hot Tears Falling, And The Simple Choking Words Sobbed Out.

It Is Beginning To Be Doubtful Whether Parliament And Congress Sit In Westminster And Washington, Or In The Editorial Rooms Of The Leading Journals,--so Thoroughly Is Everything Debated Before The Authorized And Responsible Debaters Get On Their Legs.

No Man Can Produce Great Things Who Is Not Thoroughly Sincere In Dealing With Himself, Who Would Not Exchange The Finest Show For The Poorest Reality, Who Does Not So Love His Work That He Is Not Only Glad To Give Himself For It, But Finds Rather A Gain Than A Sacrifice In The Surrender.

God'll Send The Bill To You.

Reading Chaucer Is Like Brushing Through The Dewy Grass At Sunrise.

I Who Still Pray At Morning And At Eve Thrice In My Life Perhaps Have Truly Prayed, Thrice Stirred Below Conscious Self Have Felt That Perfect Disenthrallment Which Is God.

Idleness Induces Caprice.

[b]ut In Literature, It Should Be Remembered, A Thing Always Becomes His At Last Who Says It Best, And Thus Makes It His Own.

The New World's Sons From England's Breast We Drew Such Milk As Bids Remember Whence We Came, Proud Of Her Past Wherefrom Our Future Grew, This Window We Inscribe With Raleigh's Fame.

The Greatest Homage We Can Pay To Truth, Is To Use It.

Worshippers Of Light Ancestral Make The Present Light A Crime.

There Is Only One Thing Better Than Tradition And That Is The Original And Eternal Life Out Of Which All Tradition Takes Its Rise.

All The Beautiful Sentiments In The World Weigh Less Than A Single Lovely Action.

Greatly Begin. Though Thou Have Time, But For A Line, Be That Sublime. Not Failure, But Low Aim Is Crime.

In The Storm, Like A Prophet O'ermaddened, Thou Singest And Tossest Thy Branches; Thy Heart With The Terror Is Gladdened, Thou Forebodest The Dread Avalanches.... In The Calm Thou O'erstretchest The Valleys With Thine Arms, As If Blessings Imploring, Like An Old King Led Forth From His Palace, When His People To Battle Are Pouring.

If We See Light At The End Of The Tunnel, It's The Light Of The Oncoming Train.

Earth's Biggest Country 's Gut Her Soul, An' Risen Up Earth's Greatest Nation.

As One Lamp Lights Another, Nor Grows Less,so Nobleness Enkindleth Nobleness.

An Angel Stood And Met My Gaze, Through The Low Doorway Of My Tent; The Tent Is Struck, The Vision Stays; I Only Know She Came And Went.

What A Sense Of Security In An Old Book Which Time Has Criticized For Us!

Our American Republic Will Endure Only As Long As The Ideas Of The Men Who Founded It Continue Dominant.

The Soil Out Of Which Such Men As He Are Made Is Good To Be Born On, Good To Live On, Good To Die For And To Be Buried In.

He Who Keeps His Faith Only, Cannot Be Discrowned.

Whenever You Have The Kind Of Market That Is Taking Shape Now - A Wildly Volatile One With Big Pricing Discrepancies - It Plays Right Into The Hands Of Managers Who Are Very Focused On Research And Stock Picking.

To Have Greatly Dreamed Precludes Low Ends.

New Occasions Teach New Duties.

Onward And Upward

Things Always Seem Fairer When We Look Back At Them, And It Is Out Of That Inaccessible Tower Of The Past That Longing Leans And Beckons.

A Woman's Love Is Mighty, But A Mother's Heart Is Weak, And By Its Weakness Overcomes.

But Life Is Sweet, Though All That Makes It Sweet. Lessen Like Sound Of Friends Departing Feet; And Death Is Beautiful As Feet Of Friend. Coming With Welcome At Our Journey's End.

Not But Wut Abstract War Is Horrid, I Sign To Thet With All My Heart, But Civilysation Doos Git Forrid Sometimes, Upon A Powder-cart.

Evil Is A Far More Cunning And Persevering Propagandist Than Good, For It Has No Inward Strength, And Is Driven To Seek Countenance And Sympathy.

Truth, After All, Wears A Different Face To Everybody, And It Would Be Too Tedious To Wait Till All Were Agreed.

Suddenly All The Sky Is Hid As With The Shutting Of A Lid, One By One Great Drops Are Falling Doubtful And Slow, Down The Pane They Are Crookedly Crawling, And The Wind Breathes Low; Slowly The Circles Widen On The River, Widen And Mingle, One And All; Here And There The Slenderer Flowers Shiver, Struck By An Icy Rain-drop’s Fall.

The True Ideal Is Not Opposed To The Real But Lies In It; And Blessed Are The Eyes That Find It.

Every Person Born Into This World Their Work Is Born With Them.

Tis Easy Now For The Heart To Be True As For Grass To Be Green Or Skies To Be Blue-- 'tis The Natural Way Of Living.

Whom The Heart Of Man Shuts Out, Sometimes The Heart Of God Takes In, And Fences Them All Round About With Silence Mid The Worlds Loud Din.

At The Devil's Booth Are All Things Sold. Each Ounce Of Dross Costs Its Ounce Of Gold.

What Men Call Luck Is The Prerogative Of Valiant Souls, The Fealty Life Pays Its Rightful Kings.

A Nature Wise With Finding In Itself The Types Of All, With Watching From The Dim Verge Of The Time What Things To Be Are Visible In The Gleams Thrown Forward On Them From The Luminous Past, Wise With The History Of Its Own Frail Heart, With Reverence And Sorrow, And With Love, Broad As The World, For Freedom And For Man.

Not Failure, But Low Aim, Is Crime.

Death Is Delightful. Death Is Dawn, The Waking From A Weary Night Of Fevers Unto Truth And Light.

Endurance Is The Crowning Quality, And Patience All The Passion Of Great Hearts.

He Who Is Firmly Seated In Authority Soon Learns To Think Security, And Not Progress, The Highest Lesson In Statecraft.

But Civlyzation Doos Git Forrid Sometimes Upon A Powder-cart.

And Blessed Are The Horny Hands Of Toil.

Books Are The Bees Which Carry The Quickening Pollen From One To Another Mind.

The Stiff Rails Were Softened To Swan's-down, And Still Fluttered Down The Snow.

The Holy Supper Is Kept, Indeed, In Whatso We Share With Anothers Need; Not What We Give, But What We Share, For The Gift Without The Giver Is Bare; Who Gives Himself With His Alms Feeds Three, Himself, His Hungering Neighbor, And Me.

The Discontent With The Existing Order Of Things Pervaded The Atmosphere, Wherever The Conditions Were Favorable, Long Before Columbus, Seeking The Back Door Of Asia, Found Himself Knocking At The Front Door Of America.

And What They Dare To Dream Of, Date To Do.

In The Parliament Of The Present Every Man Represents A Constituency Of The Past.

A Ginooine Statesman Should Be On His Guard, If He Must Hev Beliefs, Not To B'lieve 'em Too Hard.

The Realm Of Death Seems An Enemy's Country To Most Men, On Whose Shores They Are Loathly Driven By Stress Of Weather; To The Wise Man It Is The Desired Port Where He Moors His Bark Gladly, As In Some Quiet Haven Of The Fortunate Isles; It Is The Golden West Into Which His Sun Sinks, And, Sinking, Casts Back A Glory Upon The Leaden Cloud-tack Which Had Darkly Besieged His Day.

Human Nature Has A Much Greater Genius For Sameness Than For Originality.

Before Man Made Us Citizens, Great Nature Made Us Men.

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.

It Was In Making Education Not Only Common To All, But In Some Sense Compulsory On All, That The Destiny Of The Free Republics Of America Was Practically Settled.

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.

The Pressure Of Public Opinion Is Like The Pressure Of The Atmosphere; You Can't See It - But All The Same, It Is Sixteen Pounds To The Square Inch.

The Devil Loves Nothing Better Than The Intolerance Of Reformers.

Now The Heart Is So Full That A Drop Overfills It; We Are Happy Now Because God Wills It.

They Have Rights Who Dare Maintain Them.

And What Is So Rare As A Day In June? Then, If Ever, Come Perfect Days.

Where One Person Shapes Their Life By Precept And Example, There Are A Thousand Who Have Shaped It By Impulse And Circumstances.

Once To Every Man And Nation Comes The Moment To Decide.

Knowing Who You Are

Ef You Want Peace, The Thing You've Gut To Du Is Jes' To Show You're Up To Fightin', Tu.

Truth Is Quite Beyond The Reach Of Satire. There Is So Brave A Simplicity In Her That She Can No More Be Made Ridiculous Than An Oak Or A Pine.

There Is Something Magnificent In Having A Country To Love.

When I Was A Beggarly Boy, And Lived In A Cellar Damp, I Had Not A Friend Nor A Toy, But I Had Aladdin's Lamp.

The Purely Great Whose Soul No Siren Passion Could Unsphere, Thou Nameless, Now A Power And Mixed With Fate.

The Rich Man's Sons Inherits Cares; The Bank May Break, The Factory Burn, A Breath May Burst His Bubble Shares, And Soft, White Hands Could Hardly Earn A Living That Would Serve His Turn.

The Secret Of Force In Writing Lies Not So Much In The Pedigree Of Nouns And Adjectives And Verbs, As In Having Something That You Believe In To Say, And Making The Parts Of Speech Vividly Conscious Of It.

And What Is So Rare As A Day In June? Then, If Ever, Come Perfect Days; Then Heaven Tries Earth If It Be In Tune, And Over It Softly Her Warm Ear Lays; Whether We Look, Or Whether We Listen, We Hear Life Murmur, Or See It Glisten.

If The Devil Take A Less Hateful Shape To Us Than To Our Fathers, He Is As Busy With Us As With Them.

Mishaps Are Like Knives, That Either Serve Us Or Cut Us, As We Grasp Them By The Blade Or The Handle.

May Is A Pious Fraud Of The Almanac A Ghastly Parody Of Real Spring Shaped Out Of Snow And Breathed With Eastern Wind.

Talent Is That Which Is In A Man's Power; Genius Is That In Whose Power A Man Is.

Sentiment Is Intellectualized Emotion; Emotion Precipitated, As It Were, In Pretty Crystals By The Fancy.

I Have Always Been Of The Mind That In A Democracy Manners Are The Only Effective Weapons Against The Bowie-knife.

History Is Clarified Experience.

New Occasions Teach New Duties, Time Makes Ancient Good Uncouth; They Must Upward Still And Onward, Who Would Keep Abreast Of Truth.

Onward And Upward

Love Lives On, And Hath A Power To Bless When They Who Loved Are Hidden In The Grave.

A Beggar Through The World Am I, From Place To Place I Wander By. Fill Up My Pilgrim's Scrip For Me, For Christ's Sweet Sake And Charity.

Time Is, After All, The Greatest Of Poets; And The Sons Of Memory Stand A Better Chance Of Being The Heirs Of Fame.

He Mastered Whatever Was Not Worth The Knowing.

While Tenderness Of Feeling And Susceptibility To Generous Emotions Are Accidents Of Temperament, Goodness Is An Achievement Of The Will And A Quality Of The Life.

Over All Life Broods Poesy, Like The Calm Blue Sky With Its Motherly, Rebuking Face. She Is The Great Reformer, And Where The Love Of Her Is Strong And Healthy, Wickedness And Wrong Cannot Long Prevail.

No Man Is Born Into The World Whose Work Is Not Born With Him. There Is Always Work, And Tools To Work Withal, For Those Who Will; And Blessed Are The Horny Hands Of Toil.

Fools, When Their Roof-tree Falls, Think It Doomsday.

A Word Once Vulgarized Can Never Be Rehabilitated.

No Man, I Suspect, Ever Lived Long In The Country Without Being Bitten By These Meteorological Ambitions. He Likes To Be Hotter And Colder, To Have Been More Deeply Snowed Up, To Have More Trees And Larger Blown Down Than His Neighbors.

Let Us Be Thankful That There Is No Court By Which We Can Be Excluded From Our Share In The Inheritance Of The Great Poets Of All Ages And Countries, To Which Our Simple Humanity Entitles Us.

Who's Not Sat Tense Before His Own Heart's Curtain.

Truth, After All, Wears A Different Face To Everybody, And It Would Be Too Tedious To Wait Till All Were Agreed. She Is Said To Lie At The Bottom Of A Well, For The Very Reason, Perhaps, That Whoever Looks Down In Search Of Her Sees His Own Image At The Bottom, And Is Persuaded Not Only That He Has Seen The Goddess, But That She Is Far Better Looking Than He Had Imagined.

Different Faces

If One Waits For The Right Time To Come Before Writing, The Right Time Never Comes.

That Best Academy, A Mother's Knee.

It Is Quite Too Common A Practice, Both In Readers And The More Superficial Class Of Critics, To Judge A Book By What It Is Not, A Matter Much Easier To Determine Than What It Is.

Nature Fits All Her Children With Something To Do, He Who Would Write And Can't Write, Can Surely Review.

A Great Part Of Human Suffering Has Its Root In The Nature Of Man, And Not In That Of His Institutions.

Comparative Criticism Teaches Us That Moral And Aesthetic Defects Are More Nearly Related Than Is Commonly Supposed.

The Right To Be A Cussed Fool Is Safe From All Devices Human, It's Common (ez A Gin'i Rule) To Every Critter Born Of Woman.

And The Poorest Twig On The Elm-tree Was Ridged Inch Deep With Pearl.

Once To Every Person And Nation Come The Moment To Decide. In The Conflict Of Truth With Falsehood, For The Good Or Evil Side.

Men! Whose Boast It Is That Ye Come Of Fathers Brave And Free, If There Breathe On Earth A Slave, Are Ye Truly Free And Brave?

I Don't Believe In Principle, But I Do In Interest.

God's Livery Is A Very Plain One; But Its Wearers Have Good Reason To Be Content. If It Have Not So Much Gold-lace About It As Satan's, It Keeps Out Foul Weather Better, And Is Besides A Great Deal Cheaper.

I Tell Ye Wut, My Judgment Is You're Pooty Sure To Fail, Ez Long 'z The Head Keeps Turnin' Back For Counsel To The The Tail.

Take Winter As You Find Him, And He Turns Out To Be A Thoroughly Honest Fellow; With No Nonsense In Him, Which Is A Great Comfort In The Long-run.

The Course Of A Great Statesman Resembles That Of Navigable Rivers, Avoiding Immovable Obstacles With Noble Bends Of Concession, Seeking The Broad Levels Of Opinion On Which Men Soonest Settle And Longest Dwell, Following And Marking The Almost Imperceptible Slopes Of National Tendency, Yet Always Aiming At Direct Advances, Always Recruited From Sources Nearer Heaven, And Sometimes Bursting Open Paths Of Progress And Fruitful Human Commerce Through What Seem The Eternal Barriers Of Both.

't Is Heaven Alone That Is Given Away; 't Is Only God May Be Had For The Asking.

Truly There Is A Tide In The Affairs Of Men; But There Is No Gulf-stream Setting Forever In One Direction.

He Who Esteems The Virginia Reel A Bait To Draw Saints From Their Spiritual Weal, And Regards The Quadrille As A Far Greater Knavery Than Crushing His African Children With Slavery, Since All Who Take Part In A Waltz Or Cotillon Are Mounted For Hell On The Devil's Own Pillion, Who, As Every True Orthodox Christian Well Knows, Approaches The Heart Through The Door Of The Toes.

The Ash Her Purple Drops Forgivingly And Sadly, Breaking Not The General Hush; The Maple Swamps Glow Like A Sunset Sea, Each Leaf A Ripple With Its Separate Flush; All Round The Wood's Edge Creeps The Skirting Blaze, Ere The Rain Falls, The Cautious Farmer Burns His Brush.

From Lower To The Higher Next, Not To The Top, Is Nature's Text; And Embryo Good, To Reach Full Stature, Absorbs The Evil In Its Nature.

Ye Come And Go Incessant; We Remain Safe In The Hallowed Quiets Of The Past; Be Reverent, Ye Who Flit And Are Forgot, Of Faith So Nobly Realized As This.

Men's Thoughts And Opinions Are In A Great Degree Vassals Of Him Who Invents A New Phrase Or Re-applies An Old Epithet. The Thought Or Feeling A Thousand Times Repeated Becomes His At Last Who Utters It Best.

This Goin' Ware Glory Waits Ye Haint One Agreeable Feetur.

Better To Me The Poor Mans Crust, Better The Blessing Of The Poor, Though I Turn Me Empty From His Door; That Is No True Alms Which The Hand Can Hold; He Gives Nothing But Worthless Gold Who Gives From A Sense Of Duty; But He Who Gives A Slender Mite, And Gives To That Which Is Out Of Sight, That Thread Of The All-sustaining Beauty Which Runs Through All And Doth All Unite, - The Hand Cannot Clasp The Whole Of His Alms, The Heart Outstretches Its Eager Palms, For A God Goes With It And Makes It Store To The Soul That Was Starving In Darkness Before.

The Intellect Has Only One Failing, Which, To Be Sure, Is A Very Considerable One. It Has No Conscience.

The One Thing Finished In This Hasty World.

Truth Forever On The Scaffold, Wrong Forever On The Throne.

A Sneer Is The Weapon Of The Weak.

Earth Gets Its Price For What Earth Gives Us; The Beggar Is Taxed For A Corner To Die In, The Priest Hath His Fee Who Comes And Shrives Us, We Bargain For The Graves We Lie In; Each Ounce Of Dross Costs Its Ounce Of Gold... 't Is Heaven Alone That Is Given Away, 't Is Only God May Be Had For The Asking; There Is No Price Set On The Lavish Summer, And June May Be Had By The Poorest Comer.

Puritanism, Believing Itself Quick With The Seed Of Religious Liberty, Laid, Without Knowing It, The Egg Of Democracy.

The Gift Without The Giver Is Rare.

Life Seems A Jest Of Fate's Contriving.

They Are Slaves Who Fear To Speak For The Fallen And The Weak; They Are Slaves Who Will Not Choose Hatred, Scoffing, And Abuse, Rather Than In Silence Shrink From The Truth They Needs Must Think; They Are Slaves Who Dare Not Be In The Right With Two Or Three.

There Is No Bore We Dread Being Left Alone With So Much As Our Own Minds.

Faith In God, Faith In Man, Faith In Work: This Is The Short Formula In Which We May Sum Up The Teachings Of The Founders Of New England,--a Creed Ample Enough For This Life And The Next.

The Eye Is The Notebook Of The Poet.

Scepticism Commonly Takes Up The Room Left By Defect Of Imagination, And Is The Very Quality Of Mind Most Likely To Seek For Sensual Proof Of Supersensual Things. If One Came From The Dead It Could Not Believe; And Yet It Longs For Such A Witness, And Will Put Up With A Very Dubious One.

The Snow Had Begun In The Gloaming, And Busily All The Night Had Been Heaping Field And Highway With A Silence Deep And White.

The Better Part Of Every Man's Education Is That Which He Gives Himself.

To Me It Seems Not Unreasonable To Find A Re-enforcement Of Optimism, A Renewal Of Courage And Hope, In The Modern Theory That Man Has Mounted To What He Is From The Lowest Step Of Potentiality, Through Toilsome Grades Of Ever-expanding Existence, Even Thought It Have Been By A Spiral Stairway, Mainly Dark Or Dusty, With Loop-holes At Long Intervals Only, And These Granting But A Narrow And One-sided View.

Earth Gets Its Price For What Earth Gives Us.

Winds Wanders, And Dews Drip Earthward; Rains Fall, Suns Rise And Set; Earth Whirls, And All But To Prosper A Poor Little Violet.

Ah, Men Do Not Know How Much Strength Is In Poise, That He Goes The Farthest Who Goes Far Enough.

Get But The Truth Once Uttered, And 'tis Like A Star New-born That Drops Into Its Place And Which, Once Circling In Its Placid Round, Not All The Tumult Of The Earth Can Shake.

For There's Nothing We Read Of In Torture's Inventions, Like A Well-meaning Dunce, With The Best Of Intentions.

Keats Longed For Fame, But Longed Above All To Deserve It.

The Nurse Of Full-grown Souls Is Solitude.

Freedom Is The Only Law Which Genius Knows.

Enthusiasm Begets Enthusiasm, Eloquence Produces Conviction For The Moment; But It Is Only By Truth To Nature And The Everlasting Institutions Of Mankind That Those Abiding Influences Are Won That Enlarge From Generation To Generation.

Dear Common Flower, That Grow'st Beside The Way, Fringing The Dusty Road With Harmless Gold, First Pledge Of Blithesome May, Which Children Pluck, And, Full Of Pride Uphold.

Fastidiousness Is Only Another Word For Egotism; And All Men Who Know Not Where To Look For Truth Save In The Narrow Well Of Self Will Find Their Own Image At The Bottom, And Mistake It For What They Are Seeking.

Taste Is The Next Gift To Genius.

It Is The Rooted Instinct In Men To Admire What Is Better And More Beautiful Than Themselves.

The Mind Can Weave Itself Warmly In The Cocoon Of Its Own Thoughts, And Dwell A Hermit Anywhere.

A Marciful Providunce Fashioned Us Holler O' Purpose Thet We Might Our Principles Swaller.

Old Gold Has A Civilizing Virtue Which New Gold Must Grow Old To Be Capable Of Secreting.

The Child Is Not Mine As The First Was, I Cannot Sing It To Rest, I Cannot Lift It Up Fatherly And Bliss It Upon My Breast; Yet It Lies In My Little One's Cradle And Sits In My Little One's Chair, And The Light Of The Heaven She's Gone To Transfigures Its Golden Hair.

Not A Change For The Better In Our Human Housekeeping Has Ever Taken Place That Wise And Good Men Have Not Opposed It-have Not Prophesied That The World Would Wake Up To Find Its Throat Cut In Consequence.

Fashion Being The Art Of Those Who Must Purchase Notice At Some Cheaper Rate Than That Of Being Beautiful, Loves To Do Rash And Extravagant Things. She Must Be Forever New, Or She Becomes Insipid.

Truth Only Needs To Be For Once Spoken Out; And There's Such Music In Her, Such Strange Rhythm, As Makes Men's Memories Her Joyous Slaves.

Analysis Is Carried Into Everything. Even Deity Is Subjected To Chemical Tests.

Here Come The Hum The Golden Bees Underneath Full Blossomed Trees, At Once With Glowing Fruit And Flowers Crowned.

What Means This Glory Round Our Feet, The Magi Mused, "more Bright Than Morn!" And Voices Chanted Clear And Sweet, "to-day The Prince Of Peace Is Born.

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