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It is not growing like a tree

In bulk, doth make man better be; Or standing long an oak, three hundred year, To fall a log at last, dry, bald and sear :

A lily of a day

Is fairer far in May,
Although it fall and die that night,

It was the plant and flower of light.
In small proportions we just beauties see;
And in short measures life may perfect be.

-Ben Jonson

We find in life exactly what we put in it.

-Emerson. Duty done is the soul's fireside.

-Browning Can a man help imitating that with which he holds reverential converse ?


Discretion of speech is more than eloquence.

-Bacon. Is anything more wonderful than another, if you consider it maturely? I have seen no man rise from the dead; I have seen some thousands rise from nothing. I have not force to fly into the sun, but I have force to lift my hand, which is equally strange.

-Carlyle. As you grow ready for it, somewhere or other you will find what is needful for you, in a book, or a friend, or, best of all, in your own thoughts, the eternal thought speaking in your thought.

-George Macdonald. A house is no home unless it contain food and fire for the mind as well as for the body.

- Margaret Fuller Ossoli.


Rest is not quitting

The busy career; Rest is the fitting

Of self to its sphere: 'Tis loving and serving

The highest and best; 'Tis onward, unswerving, And that is true rest.

-John S. Dwight.


Manners are the happy ways of doing things. . . If they are superficial, so are the dewdrops, which give such a depth to the morning meadow.

- Emerson. A higher morality, like a higher intelligence, must be reached by a slow growth. Herbert Spencer.

Oh, the little birds sang east, and the little birds

sang west, And I smiled to think God's greatness flowed

around our incompleteness, Round our restlessness, His rest.

- Mrs. Browning. Then wisely weigh Our sorrow with our comfort.

- The Tempest. Books are embalmed minds.

- Bovee.

Great men seem to be a part of the infinite, brothers of the mountains and the seas. -Ingersoll.

Truth can be outraged by silence quite as cruelly as by speech.”

It was a dark, chill, misty morning, like to end in rain; one of those mornings when even happy people take refuge in their hopes.

- George Eliot.

Habit is a cable; we weave a thread of it every day, and at last we cannot break it. Horace Mann.

The wisest man could ask no more of fate
Than to be simple, modest, manly, true,
Safe from the many, honored by the few ;
Nothing to court in Church, or World, or State,
But inwardly in secret to be great.

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