Occupation Is One Great Source

I Can Pass Days Stretch'd In The Shade Of Those Old Cedar Trees, Watching The Sunshine Like A Blessing Fall,-- The Breeze Like Music Wandering O'er The Boughs, Each Tree A Natural Harp,--each Different Leaf A Different Note, Blent In One Vast Thanksgiving.

Confidence Is Its Own Security.

Habit Is Our Idea Of Eternity.

I Hate The Word 'ought' - It Always Implies Something Dull, Cold, And Commonplace. The 'ought Nots' Of Life Are Its Pleasantest Things.

Jealousy Ought To Be Tragic, To Save It From Being Ridiculous.