Idleness Is The Sepulchre Of A Living

He That Cannot Paint Must Grind The Colors.

A Fortune Won In A Day Is Lost In A Day; A Fortune Won Slowly, And Slowly Compacted, Seems To Acquire From The Hand That Won It The Property Of Endurance.

The Sweetest Type Of Heaven Is Home - Nay, Heaven Is The Home For Whose Acquisition We Are To Strive The Most Strongly. Home, In One Form And Another, Is The Great Object Of Life. It Stands At The End Of Every Day's Labor, And Beckons Us To Its Bosom; An Life Would Be Cheerless And Meaningless, Did We Not Discern Across The River That Divides Us From The Life Beyond, Glimpses Of The Pleasant Mansions Prepared For Us.

The Moment That Law Is Destroyed, Liberty Is Lost, And Men, Left Free To Enter Upon The Domains Of Each Other, Destroy Each Other's Rights, And Invade The Field Of Each Other's Liberty.

Work Was Made For Man, And Not Man For Work. Work Is Man's Servant, Both In Its Results To The Worker And The World. Man Is Not Work's Servant, Save As An Almost Universal Perversion Has Made Him Such.