Every Fact Is Impure, But

All Great Expression, Which On A Superficial Survey Seems So Easy As Well As So Simple, Furnishes After A While, To The Faithful Observer, Its Own Standard By Which To Appreciate It.

There Is Such A Rebound From Parental Influence That It Generally Seems That The Child Makes Use Of The Directions Given By The Parent Only To Avoid The Prescribed Path.

Every Fact Is Impure, But Every Fact Contains In It The Juices Of Life. Every Fact Is A Clod, From Which May Grow An Amaranth Or A Palm.

I Fear I Have Not One Good Word To Say This Fair Morning, Though The Sun Shines So Encouragingly On The Distant Hills And Gentle River And The Trees Are In Their Festive Hues. I Am Not Festive, Though Contented. When Obliged To Give Myself To The Prose Of Life, As I Am On This Occasion Of Being Established In A New Home I Like To Do The Thing, Wholly And Quite, - To Weave My Web For The Day Solely From The Grey Yarn.

A House Is No Home Unless It Contains Food And Fire For The Mind As Well As For The Body. For Human Beings Are Not So Constituted That They Can Live Without Expansion. If They Do Not Get It In One Way, They Must In Another, Or Perish.