The Highest Thinkers Of The

The Greatest Tragedy To Befall A Person Is To Have Sight But Lack Vision.

Long Before I Learned To Do A Sum In Arithmetic Or Describe The Shape Of The Earth, Miss Sullivan Had Taught Me To Find Beauty In The Fragrant Woods, In Every Blade Of Grass, And In The Curves And Dimples Of My Baby Sister's Hand.

I Demand That The World Be Good, And Lo, It Obeys. I Proclaim The World Good, And Facts Range Themselves To Prove My Proclamation Overwhelmingly True. To What Good I Open The Doors Of My Being, And Jealously Shut Them Against What Is Bad. Such Is The Force Of This Beautiful And Willful Conviction, It Carries Itself In The Face Of All Opposition. I Am Never Discouraged By Absence Of Good. I Never Can Be Argued Into Hopelessness. Doubt And Mistrust Are The Mere Panic Of Timid Imagination, Which The Steadfast Heart Will Conquer, And The Large Mind Transcend.

The Marvelous Richness Of Human Experience Would Lose Something Of Rewarding Joy If There Were No Limitations To Overcome. The Hilltop Hour Would Not Be Half So Wonderful If There Were No Dark Valleys To Traverse.

I Do Not Mean To Object To A Thorough Knowledge Of The Famous Works We Read. I Object Only To The Interminable Comments And Bewildering Criticisms That Teach But One Thing: There Are As Many Opinions As There Are Men.