What A Severe Yet Master

A Man Can Fail Many Times, But He Isn't A Failure Until He Begins To Blame Somebody Else.

I Was Born With A Chronic Anxiety About The Weather.

Man Takes Root At His Feet, And At Best He Is No More Than A Potted Plant In His House Or Carriage Till He Has Established Communication With The Soil By The Loving And Magnetic Touch Of His Soles To It.

Serene, I Fold My Hands And Wait, Nor Care For Wind, Nor Tide, Nor Sea; I Rave No More 'gainst Time Or Fate, For Lo! My Own Shall Come To Me.

If I Were To Name The Three Most Precious Resources Of Life, I Should Say Books, Friends, And Nature.