A Father May Turn His Back On

I've Had It With You And Your Emotional Constipation!

I Have Never Found, In Anything Outside Of The Four Walls Of My Study, An Enjoyment Equal To Sitting At My Writing Desk With A Clean Page, A New Theme, And A Mind Awake.

Good Temper, Like A Sunny Day, Sheds A Ray Of Brightness Over Everything; It Is The Sweetener Of Toil And The Soother Of Disquietude!

Nature Seems To Delight In Disappointing The Assuduities Of Art, With Which It Would Rear Dulness To Maturity, And To Glory In The Vigor And Luxuriance Of Her Chance Productions. She Scatters The Seeds Of Genius To The Winds, And Though Some May Perish Among The Stony Places Of The World, And Some May Be Choked By The Thorns And Brambles Of Early Adversity, Yet Others Will Now And Then Strike Root Even In The Clefts Of The Rock, Struggle Bravely Up Into Sunshine, And Spread Over Their Sterile Birthplace All The Beauties Of Vegetation.

What Earnest Worker, With Hand And Brain For The Benefit Of His Fellowmen, Could Desire A More Pleasing Recognition Of His Usefulness Than The Monument Of A Tree, Ever Growing, Ever Blooming, And Ever Bearing Wholesome Fruit?