Life Is Too Short For Mean Anxieties.

There Are Two Freedoms - The False, Where A Man Is Free To Do What He Likes; The True, Where He Is Free To Do What He Ought.

You Are Literally Filled With The Fruit Of Your Own Devices, With Rats And Mice And Such Small Deer, Paramecia, And Entomostraceæ, And Kicking Things With Horrid Names, Which You See In Microscopes At The Polytechnic, And Rush Home And Call For Brandy-without The Water-stone, And Gravel, And Dyspepsia, And Fragments Of Your Own Muscular Tissue Tinged With Your Own Bile.

Give Me Something Huge To Fight, — And I Should Enjoy That — But Why Make Me Sweep The Dust?

Make It A Rule And Pray To God To Help You Keep It . . . Never, If Possible, To Lie Down At Night Without Being Able To Say "i Have Made One Human Being At Least A Little Wiser, A Little Happier, Or A Little Better This Day."

Gradually The Sunken Land Begins To Rise Again, And Falls Perhaps Again, And Rises Again After That, More And More Gently Each Time, Till As It Were The Panting Earth, Worn Out With The Fierce Passions Of Her Fiery Youth, Has Sobbed Herself To Sleep Once More, And This New World Of Man Is Made.