It Is The End Of

When A Man Can Look Upon The Simple Wild-rose, And Feel No Pleasure, His Taste Has Been Corrupted.

Reason Can Tell How Love Affects Us, But Cannot Tell What Love Is.

People May Excite In Themselves A Glow Of Compassion, Not By Toasting Their Feet At The Fire, And Saying: "lord, Teach Me Compassion," But By Going And Seeking An Object That Requires Compassion.

There Have Been Many Men Who Left Behind Them That Which Hundreds Of Years Have Not Worn Out. The Earth Has Socrates And Plato To This Day. The World Is Richer Yet By Moses And The Old Prophets Than By The Wisest Statesmen. We Are Indebted To The Past. We Stand In The Greatness Of Ages That Are Gone Rather Than In That Of Our Own. But Of How Many Of Us Shall It Be Said That, Being Dead, We Yet Speak?

Every Man Should Be Born Again On The First Day Of January. Start With A Fresh Page. Take Up One Hole More In The Buckle If Necessary, Or Let Down One, According To Circumstances; But On The First Of January Let Every Man Gird Himself Once More, With His Face To The Front, And Take No Interest In The Things That Were And Are Past.