What Induces A Child To

Each Day Comes To Me With Both Hands Full Of Possibilities.

There Is Plenty Of Courage Among Us For The Abstract, But Not For The Concrete.

Toleration Is The Greatest Gift Of The Mind.

He Who Is Content With What Has Been Done Is An Obstacle In The Path Of Progress.

The Hands Of Those I Meet Are Dumbly Eloquent To Me. The Touch Of Some Hands Is An Impertinence. I Have Met People So Empty Of Joy, That When I Clasped Their Frosty Finger-tips, It Seemed As If I Were Shaking Hands With A Northeast Storm. Others There Are Whose Hands Have Sunbeams In Them, So That Their Grasp Warms My Heart. It May Be Only The Clinging Touch Of A Child's Hand; But There Is As Much Potential Sunshine In It For Me As There Is In A Loving Glance For Others. A Hearty Handshake Or A Friendly Letter Gives Me Genuine Pleasure.