A Man's Ledger Does Not Tell What

Today Is A Goblet Day. The Whole Heavens Have Been Mingled With Exquisite Skill To A Delicious Flavor, And The Crystal Cup Put To Every Lip. Breathing Is Like Ethereal Drinking. It Is A Luxury Simply To Exist.

We Not Only Live Among Men, But There Are Airy Hosts, Blessed Spectators, Sympathetic Lookers-on, That See And Know And Appreciate Our Thoughts And Feelings And Acts.

A Cup Of Coffee - Real Coffee - Home-browned, Home Ground, Home Made, That Comes To You Dark As A Hazel-eye, But Changes To A Golden Bronze As You Temper It With Cream That Never Cheated, But Was Real Cream From Its Birth, Thick, Tenderly Yellow, Perfect!

The Slave Labors, But With No Cheer - It Is Not The Road To Respectability, It Will Honor Him With No Citizens' Trust, It Brings No Bread To His Family, No Grain To His Garner, No Leisure In After-days, No Books Or Papers To His Children. It Opens No School-house Door, Builds No Church, Rears For Him No Factory, Lays No Keel, Fills No Bank, Earns No Acres. With Sweat And Toil And Ignorance He Consumes His Life, To Pour The Earnings Into Channels From Which He Does No Drink, Into Hands That Never Honor Him. But Perpetually Rob And Often Torment.

Never Forget What A Person Says To You When They Are Angry.