Religion Is Only Another Word For The

A Person Can No More Make Money Suddenly And Largely, And Be Unharmed By It, Than One Could Suddenly Grow From A Child's Stature To An Adult's Without Harm.

It Is Not Work That Kills Men; It Is Worry. Worry Is Rust Upon The Blade.

To The Great Tree-loving Fraternity We Belong. We Love Trees With Universal And Unfeigned Love, And All Things That Do Grow Under Them Or Around Them - The Whole Leaf And Root Tribe. Not Alone When They Are In Their Glory, But In Whatever State They Are - In Leaf, Or Rimed With Frost, Or Powdered With Snow, Or Crystal-sheathed In Ice, Or In Severe Outline Stripped And Bare Against A November Sky - We Love Them.

Nothing Can Compare In Beauty, And Wonder, And Admirableness, And Divinity Itself, To The Silent Work In Obscure Dwellings Of Faithful Women Bringing Their Children To Honor And Virtue And Piety.

When Leisure Is A Selfish Luxury, Its Very Activity, When It Stirs, Is Apt To Be Only A Kind Of Indolence Taking Exercise, That It May The Better Digest Its Selfishness.