Fine Counsel Is Confusing, But Example Is

There's Nothing That Builds Up A Toil-weary Soul Like A Day On A Stream, Back On The Banks Of The Old Fishing Hole Where A Fellow Can Dream. There's Nothing So Good For A Man As To Flee From The City And Lie Full Length In The Shade Of A Whispering Tree And Gaze At The Sky. . . . . It Is Good For The World That Men Hunger To Go To The Banks Of A Stream, And Weary Of Sham And Of Pomp And Of Show They Have Somewhere To Dream. For This Life Would Be Dreary And Sordid And Base Did They Not Now And Then Seek Refreshment And Calm In God's Wide, Open Space And Come Back To Be Men.

I'd Like To Be The Sort Of Friend That You Have Been To Me. I'd Like To Be The Help That You've Been Always Glad To Be; I'd Like To Mean As Much To You Each Minute Of The Day, As You Have Meant, Old Friend Of Mine, To Me Along The Way.

Somebody Said That It Couldn't Be Done But He With A Chuckle Replied That "maybe It Couldn't," But He Would Be One Who Wouldn't Say So Till He Tried. So He Buckled Right In With The Trace Of A Grin On His Face. If He Worried He Hid It. He Started To Sing As He Tackled The Thing That Couldn't Be Done, And He Did It.

Life Is Like A Cocktail, Made Up For The Most Part Of Sweet Things, And Tinged With A Dash Of Bitters. We Must Drain It To The Dregs To Get At The Cherry, Just As We Must Live A Full And Rounded Life To Know All Its Pleasures.

Love Has The Patience To Endure The Fault It Sees But Cannot Cure.