A Sneer Is The Weapon Of The

True Love Is But A Humble, Low Born Thing, And Hath Its Food Served Up In Earthenware; It Is A Thing To Walk With, Hand In Hand, Through The Every-dayness Of This Workday World.

The Wisest Man Could Ask No More Of Fate Than To Be Simple, Modest, Manly, True, Safe From The Many, Honored By The Few; Nothing To Court In Church, Or World, Or State, But Inwardly In Secret To Be Great.

Be He Nowhere Else, God Is In All That Liberates And Lifts, In All That Humbles, Sweetens, And Consoles.

The Stiff Rails Were Softened To Swan's-down, And Still Fluttered Down The Snow.

Thank God Every Morning When You Get Up That You Have Something To Do That Day, Which Must Be Done, Whether You Like It Or Not.