Luck Whines; Labor Whistles.

It Is Not Ease, But Effort-not Facility, But Difficulty, Makes Men. There Is, Perhaps, No Station In Life In Which Difficulties Have Not To Be Encountered And Overcome Before Any Decided Measure Of Success Can Be Achieved.

Wisdom And Understanding Can Only Become The Possession Of Individual Men By Travelling The Old Road Of Observation, Attention, Perseverance, And Industry.

If We Opened Our Minds To Enjoyment, We Might Find Tranquil Pleasures Spread About Us On Every Side. We Might Live With The Angels That Visit Us On Every Sunbeam, And Sit With The Fairies Who Wait On Every Flower.

Those Who Aren't Making Mistakes Probably Aren't Making Anything.

A Great Deal Of What Passes By The Name Of Patriotism In These Days Consists Of The Merest Bigotry And Narrow-mindedness; Exhibiting Itself In National Prejudice, National Conceit, And National Hatred. It Does Not Show Itself In Deeds, But In Boastings--in Howlings, Gesticulations, And Shrieking Helplessly For Help--in Flying Flags And Singing Songs--and In Perpetual Grinding At The Hurdy-gurdy Of Long-dead Grievances And Long-remedied Wrongs. To Be Infested By Such A Patriotism As This Is Perhaps Among The Greatest Curses That Can Befall Any Country.