A Lean Sorrow Is Hardest To Bear.

The Thing That Teases The Mind Over And Over For Years, And At Last Gets Itself Put Down Rightly On Paper - Whether Little Or Great, It Belongs To Literature.

To Let God Make Us, Instead Of Painfully Trying To Make Ourselves; To Follow The Path That His Love Shows Us, Instead Of Through Conceit Or Cowardice Or Mockery Choosing Another; To Trust Him For Our Strength And Fitness As The Flowers Do, Simply Giving Ourselves Back To Him In Grateful Service,—this Is To Keep The Laws That Give Us The Freedom Of The City In Which There Is No Longer Any Night Of Bewilderment Or Ignorance Or Uncertainty.

It Is A Splendid Thing To Have The Use Of Any Gift Of God. It Isn't For Us To Choose Again, Or Wonder And Dispute, But Just Work In Our Own Places, And Leave The Rest To God.

It Is The People Who Can Do Nothing Who Find Nothing To Do, And The Secret To Happiness In This World Is Not Only To Be Useful, But To Be Forever Elevating One's Uses.

There Was A Patient Look On The Old Man's Face, As If The World Were A Great Mistake And He Had Nobody With Whom To Speak His Own Language Or Find Companionship.