Have Thy Tools Ready. God

Give Me Something Huge To Fight, — And I Should Enjoy That — But Why Make Me Sweep The Dust?

There Are More Ways Of Killing A Cat Than Choking It With Cream.

I Can Conceive Few Human States More Enviable Than That Of The Man To Whom, Panting In The Foul Laboratory, Or Watching For His Life Under The Tropic Forest, Isis Shall For A Moment Lift Her Sacred Veil, And Show Him, Once And For Ever, The Thing He Dreamed Not Of; Some Law, Or Even Mere Hint Of A Law, Explaining One Fact; But Explaining With It A Thousand More, Connecting Them All With Each Other And With The Mighty Whole, Till Order And Meaning Shoots Through Some Old Chaos Of Scattered Observations.

If You Wish To Be Like A Little Child, Study What A Little Child Could Understand — Nature; And Do What A Little Child Could Do — Love.

Still The Race Of Hero Spirits Pass The Lamp From Hand To Hand.