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When I Heard That There Were Artists, I Wished I Could Some Time Be One. If I Could Only Make A Rose Bloom On Paper, I Thought I Should Be Happy! Or If I Could At Last Succeed In Drawing The Outline Of Winter-stripped Boughs As I Saw Them Against The Sky, It Seemed To Me That I Should Be Willing To Spend Years In Trying.

Whatever Science And Philosophy May Do For Mankind, The World Can Never Outgrow Its Need Of The Simplicity That Is In Christ.

It Is A Conquest When We Can Lift Ourselves Above The Annoyances Of Circumstances Over Which We Have No Control; But It Is A Greater Victory When We Can Make Those Circumstances Our Helpers,--when We Can Appreciate The Good There Is In Them. It Has Often Seemed To Me As If Life Stood Beside Me, Looking Me In The Face, And Saying, "child, You Must Learn To Like Me In The Form In Which You See Me, Before I Can Offer Myself To You In Any Other Aspect.

We Might All Place Ourselves In One Of Two Ranks The Women Who Do Something, And The Women Who Do Nothing; The First Being Of Course The Only Creditable Place To Occupy.

Because Its Myriad Glimmering Plumes Like A Great Army's Stir And Wave; Because Its Golden Billows Blooms, The Poor Man's Barren Walks To Lave: Because Its Sun-shaped Blossoms Show How Souls Receive The Light Of God, And Unto Earth Give Back That Glow I Thank Him For The Goldenrod.